Catch Me Now
by BatTitan
Summary: "I'm falling, and there's no end in sight. I guess I should count my lucky stars because the splat never comes, but it's still a little weird to find myself plummeting into darkness. I find myself wishing someone would catch me, but it doesn't happen. I keep falling down, down, down..." My own take on the popular "kid-falls-into-SPN-verse" plot. (Cover credited to XMissxHallawayX.)
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

* * *

_I'm falling, and there's no end in sight._

_It's almost peaceful, except that I know instinctively that there's an end. There always is. And it always ends with a loud and obnoxious _SPLAT.

_I guess I should count my lucky stars because the splat never comes, but it's still a little weird to find myself plummeting into darkness. I find myself wishing someone would catch me, but it doesn't happen. I keep falling down, down, down..._

My leg twitches and I jolt awake fully. I don't bother sitting up, my body still weighed down with lethargy, and instead choose to rub my eyes hard enough that they don't even consider closing again.

Ever had that feeling before? When you're somewhere between sleep and clarity and you get that swooping falling sensation in the pit of your stomach, which then causes your leg to spasm?

I have. Far too many times to count. Except it always happens when I'm about to sleep, never when I'm about to wake. Guess I should have realized that my day was only going to get stranger from there.

"Yo." A pillow sails towards my head and I groan as it makes fluffy contact with my face. "I know you're awake, Air."

"Bugger off," I snarl with my best impression of a British accent, which is quite good for someone who's still half-asleep. "I don't even have early morning classes this semester."

"But I do, and I'm not suffering alone," Piper, ever the kind and considerate roommate, informs me matter-of-factly and grabs her pillow off my bed in order to whack me again. "Up and at 'em, Harry Potter!"

"Give me some credit," I grumble as I force myself to sit up, "I'm clearly Hermione." My hair seems to think so, anyway. I comb my fingers through it absently in a vague attempt to calm it down so that I don't look like some sort of monster while wandering the halls of our dorm.

Catching on to my train of thought, Piper studies me critically. I suspect she's about to give me some life-altering advice, but instead she narrows her eyes and says, "_Christo_."

My expression shifts into Sam Winchester's patented bitchface purely out of instinct. "Not a demon." I can't help a grin, though, as I always can't whenever someone else, particularly Piper, makes a _Supernatural_ reference. After all, she's the one who introduced me to the show, and while she has long since left the fandom, I'm still going strong, currently trudging my way through the fifth season.

"Aww." Piper looks disappointed and I take the opportunity to whack her with my own pillow.

"Go away, woman." She reluctantly moves aside and allows me to start the day at my own pace.

Seven A.M. in the morning for a college student is an unholy time to wake up, but Piper's classes begin at eight almost every day, which means I'm up with her for "moral support," whatever that means. My own first class of the day is at three in the afternoon.

I return from my shower in time to hear Piper warbling the last off-key notes of the chorus to "_Part Of Your World_" as she packs her backpack for class.

"_WANDERING FREEEEE, WISH I COULD BEEEEE~!_"

"Oh, God, my ears," I groan in despair as I close the door behind me. "You were doing that just to annoy me, weren't you?"

"Absolutely, little mermaid." Piper smiles sweetly as she ruffles my still-damp hair on the way out the door. She shuts the door before I can protest my nickname - is it really my fault my parents thought "Ariel" would be a cute name because _The Little Mermaid_ had just come out a few years earlier? - and I sulk the rest of the way through my morning routine, my mood much worse.

* * *

Despite the several hours between the time I woke up and my first class, I still find myself yawning my way through the day and finally trudge up the steps to my dorm building, my hands tucked tightly in my pockets as I shiver against the bitter cold wind.

It's snowed recently, and the steps are still lined with piles of rocksalt, much more than the meager snowfall had required. My lips quirk at the brief thought of how useful this stuff would be to hunters, but certainly not to college students who would like to keep their brand-new sneakers salt-free, thank you very much.

I continue on up, grasping the freezing metal railing for balance.

The railing is so cold that it burns my fingers and I yank my hand back to shove it back into my pocket. My hand has chosen a terrible time to be cold, because my foot promptly slides out from beneath me, a pile of rocksalt the cause of my lack of balance.

My stomach drops unpleasantly as I topple backwards. I expect my head to smash against the stone steps, or to hit the rough asphalt, but instead I'm falling for much longer.

I open my eyes, startled that my fall hadn't ended, but all I see is pitch black, dotted with tiny little pinpricks. Are those stars? How have I ended up in the sky?

A blinding white beam of light explodes upwards beside me and I scream, my voice oddly muted by the rushing of air around me as I shut my eyes again, terrified.

But I'm not falling anymore, and my fall doesn't end with a thump or a splat. Instead, I'm suddenly sitting upright, clutching leather armrests tightly. I tentatively open my eyes and exhale when I realize I'm on an airplane.

Wait. An _airplane_?

"What the hell?" a gruff voice demands quietly from a seat across the aisle from me. I turn and my jaw drops. No way. There's no way.

"I don't know," the man sitting beside the first speaker replies shakily, running a hand through his long brown hair. He's tall, much taller than he is on television.

The first man's attention quickly snaps to me when he senses my gaze. "Got a problem, princess?" he growls.

I know I should look away, try to blend in with my surroundings, but that is _Dean freaking Winchester_ talking to me. You can't blame a girl for getting tongue-tied.

"Uhh," I say eloquently instead. I have a feeling Dean would have taken that moment to mock my idiocy, but he looks a little too stressed to deal with me.

Instead, he says shortly, "Look away, kid."

_Kid_? My cheeks grow hot with embarrassment and I drop my gaze to my knees, my brain struggling to piece together the situation.

I'm on a plane. With Sam and Dean Winchester. My mind tries to argue that it's not them, but Jensen Ackles and Jared Padalecki, but I doubt the actors go around dressing and speaking exactly like their characters when off-camera. I've seen clips of their panels on YouTube; they're much nicer in reality.

The spiky-haired rude guy across the aisle from me is no Jensen Ackles.

"Sorry," the taller man - _Sam Winchester_, I correct myself - apologizes quietly for his brother, turning slightly in my direction. I venture a glance up and receive a faint twitch of his lips that's supposed to be a reassuring smile. He looks shaken and upset, though, as if he's just survived a terrible ordeal, and I have the oddest urge to hug him.

Maybe it's the famous puppy eyes.

"'S okay," I mumble in return and try to return the smile. It comes out as more of a shaky grimace and Sam's attention is quickly lost once more, returning back to his clearly-irritated brother. I go back to figuring out what the hell is going on.

Okay, I've read fanfictions about this. People fall out of their world and drop into their favorite T.V. show. I thank whoever's listening that this isn't _The Vampire Diaries_, or Piper might have killed me out of sheer envy.

Speaking of Piper, does she know I'm gone? How the hell do I get back? My throat tightens with panic and I feel vaguely nauseous, but thankfully, neither of the Winchesters seem to notice the girl freaking out nearby. They're too wrapped up in their own hushed conversation.

I wrack my brain, trying to think of what episode or season I could be in. So far, only two episodes contain planes: _Phantom Traveler_ and _Sympathy for the Devil_. I chance a peek at Sam.

Definitely _Sympathy for the Devil_. Any true _Supernatural_ fan can judge the show's timeline based solely on Sam's hair.

And I'm staring again, something Dean notices and distinctly disapproves of.

"Y'mind, sweetheart?" The nickname is anything but endearing when he says it like he considers the recipient of said epithet - A.K.A me - to be akin to vermin.

Something tells me playing dumb won't help me get home - who knows? Maybe one of the angels can hook me up with a wormhole back to my reality or something - so I blurt out, "You're Dean Winchester."

Not my best plan. Or choice of wording. Both hunters freeze and turn identically-narrowed eyes on me. Thankfully, the crackling intercom saves me.

"_Folks, quick word from the flight deck. We're just passing over Ilchester, then Ellicott City, on our initial descent into Baltimore-_"

"Ilchester?" Dean echoes, his eyebrows raising as he glances back at Sam. I'm temporarily forgotten. "Weren't we just there?"

"_So if you'd like to stretch your legs, now would be a good time to-_" The plane rocks violently as a bright white light erupts vertically, sending the plane banking sharply right to avoid it. "_Holy crap_!" I hear the pilot shriek, his voice high-pitched with shock and fear. When I had first seen the episode, I had laughed at that. Now I'm half-tempted to join the pilot in screaming.

The lights flicker and oxygen masks drop from the overhead compartments. Without hesitation, I tug the one in front of me over my face and inhale deeply. I see Sam and Dean doing the same, Dean looking pale. I then remember his fear of flying and wonder why he and Sam had been resurrected on a _plane_, of all things.

Surely the angels could have come up with better.

When we finally land at Baltimore, people stumble out of the plane, looking shaken and terrified. I make to follow them - anything's better than having Sam and Dean glaring at me murderously - but a rough calloused hand grabs my arm just before I make it out of the gateway. I yelp in pain and turn to see Dean staring at me with hard green eyes.

"Start talkin', kid."

Well, crap.

* * *

**Well, she's just dug herself into deep shit, hasn't she? I know this idea's overdone, but I always had this muse lingering in the back of my head, and I thought I'd see how it goes if I played it out a little.**

**Ariel is not in fact named for _The Little Mermaid_, and you will find out who she is actually named for soon. I don't intend for her to be a Mary-Sue, but I have had an unfortunate tendency to write such characters in the past, so I'm counting on you all to warn me before she gets too Mary-Sueish.**

**I rely on reviews, not favorites or story alerts (but feel free to add those, too, if you wish). PLEASE take your time to send a review, let me know how I'm doing. Thank you very much and I hope you guys like this first chapter.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

* * *

_**Then:**  
_

_When we finally land at Baltimore, people stumble out of the plane, looking shaken and terrified. I make to follow them - anything's better than having Sam and Dean glaring at me murderously - but a rough calloused hand grabs my arm just before I make it out of the gateway. I yelp in pain and turn to see Dean staring at me with hard green eyes._

_"Start talkin', kid."_

_Well, crap._

_**Now:**_

I swallow and instinctively tug my arm, trying to loosen Dean's grip. He holds on tightly, still glaring at me.

"Who the hell are you?" he snarls and I see Sam looming over his shoulder. His expression seems a little less accusatory than his brother's, but still wary, but it's reassuring all the same. Ironic, since I had professed to disliking Sam all throughout the show so far.

"A-Ariel. My name's Ariel Evans," I stammer.

"Great." Dean shoves my arm away at last and I rub at the sore spot, which would definitely bruise. "As if freakin' Satan isn't bad enough, now we've got the little mermaid on our tail."

I cringe at the nickname. "For the record, I hate that movie."

"How do you know us?" Sam asks at last, his hands in his pockets as he surveys me curiously.

"Uhh." That's a good question. It's not as if I can tell them that they're the heroes of my favorite television show. "The...books?" I try, grasping at straws.

Dean groans, rubbing the bridge of his nose exasperatedly. "I'm gonna kill Chuck."

Well, at least he hasn't called me out on my lie.

Sam is still watching me suspiciously. "You read the books?"

"Skimmed them," I correct, hoping the excuse will give me enough leeway to make mistakes in details while speaking - hey, it's not like I've memorized every instant of the show, I'm not even finished with the fifth season - before adding quickly, "Look, I don't know where I am, or why I'm here. I was in New Jersey just a couple of hours ago, in my second year at Rutgers University." Sam winces slightly in sympathy and I remember that he never finished his schooling at Stanford. "I just want to go home."

Dean's eyes narrow as he studies me briefly before glancing back at Sam. Sam shrugs back at him helplessly and Dean comes to a decision, turning to me. "You're comin' with us."

"What?" I squeak in surprise as his hand claps down on the back of my neck, steering me forward through the airport terminal. "You can't just kidnap me in the middle of an airport!"

"Can and will," Dean replies mock-cheerfully.

"I'll scream," I threaten and Dean pinches the back of my neck slightly. I stifle a yelp of pain.

"No, you won't."

Damn it, he's called my bluff.

"You're safer with us," Sam consoles me as I shoot him a betrayed look. "We don't know how much you know about us, but if you did read the books, you know that monsters are real."

"I thought _you_ weren't real until now!" I complain.

Patiently, Sam continues as if I haven't interrupted. "They'd kill you for that information, and we want to keep you safe."

"So you can get your own information from me," I grumble.

"Right in one," Dean snarks. I step on his foot and smirk when he grunts in pain. "Here, take the kid and stay put." He shoves me at Sam, who catches my shoulder gently and squeezes it reassuringly. "I'm gonna get us a car so we can head back to get the Impala." Sam nods, avoiding Dean's gaze as the older Winchester heads off to the car rental booth without another word.

"You okay?" Sam asks me quietly and I shake my head, sinking into a plastic seat nearby. Sam sits down next to me, still holding my shoulder lightly.

"I want to go home," I repeat, my voice quivering.

"I know. I'm sorry." The warmth of his palm is comforting against my shoulder, and I'm surprised that I ever disliked his character. I swipe my sleeve across my eyes as they sting and Sam's grasp tightens briefly. "Please don't cry." He sounds a little nervous at the thought and I can't help but grin through my tears.

"Crying girls scare you?"

"There's no off button for them," he tells me with a weary smile, as if it's taking a lot of effort to simply crack the joke. I find myself chuckling all the same, relaxing despite my bizarre situation.

The levity doesn't last long, for Dean returns within the minute, a key in his hand.

"Let's go." His expression's grim and Sam's faint smile vanishes, replaced with a guilty frown. He nods, grasping my shoulder as we stand and follow Dean to the rental parking lot.

* * *

It doesn't escape me that I still have my backpack on my shoulders, so it's with relief that I rummage through the contents in the backseat of the rental car once we're on the road.

My textbooks are still there, as is my purse that I'd kept inside to protect it from the rain and snow. I pull out my cellphone, turning it on, and to my relief, there's three bars of signal.

I dial my home phone number and press "Call" before holding the phone to my ear. It doesn't even ring.

Instead, an automated voice says calmly, "_The number you are trying to reach is out of service. Please check for any mistakes in the number you have dialled and try again._"

I do exactly that, now steadily beginning to panic. The same message greets me and I shove the phone back into my bag, swallowing back the lump in my throat. I look up and catch Sam giving me a sorrowful glance, clearly having witnessed the entire scene.

I force a weak smile back at him - the poor guy looks even more miserable than he had been on the plane - before pulling out my purse fully to check its contents. My Rutgers identification card is still intact, as is my driver's license.

Wait a minute. The fifth season of _Supernatural_ doesn't take place in 2013.

"What's the date?" I ask abruptly.

Dean starts abruptly before answering shortly, "September. The seventh."

"And the year?" I ask warily, my heart sinking. It had been the fourth of February when I had left my world.

"2009," Dean says slowly, as if I'm an idiot.

Damn it, I haven't even graduated _high school_ in this world? Screw everything.

"Right," I say dumbly, "So where are we going?"

"Ilchester. To get our car." Dean glares at me in the rearview mirror. "You gonna keep asking questions, kid?"

"If it gets me answers," I retort, sounding much braver than I feel as my brain finally chooses to remind me that I'm sitting in a car with professional murderers.

"You don't want answers," Sam replies with a tired smile at me, "Trust me."

Surprisingly, I do, so I subside into silence obediently. Dean flicks on the radio.

"-_and Governor O'Malley urged calm, saying it's very unlikely an abandoned convent would be a target for terrorists, either foreign or homegrown._" Both Winchesters tense.

"Change the station," Dean commands and Sam does so quickly.

"-_Hurricane Kinley, unexpectedly slamming into the Galveston area_-"

"-_announced a successful test of the North Korean nuclear_-"

"-_a series of tremors_-"

"-_swine flu_-"

Sam finally just switches off the radio and sighs heavily. "Dean, I-"

"Don't say anything." Dean's voice is harsh as his knuckles whiten on the steering wheel. There's an awkward silence, which Dean finally breaks by adding a little more gently, "It's okay. We've just gotta keep our heads down and hash this out."

"Yeah, okay," Sam agrees quietly at last. It's like they've forgotten I'm here, which I don't mind. It's better than being on the end of another Dean-glare.

"All right, well, first things first. How did we and Little Miss Mouthy back there end up on Soul Plane?" I scoff, insulted, and settle for glowering at the back of Dean's spiky head.

"Angels, maybe?" Sam suggests. "Beaming us out of harm's way?"

"Well, whatever, it's the least of our worries. We need to find Cas." I have to suppress a squeal at that, because Castiel is honestly one of my favorite _Supernatural_ characters.

Not to mention I ship him and Dean shamelessly. I mean, really, who doesn't?

It's probably better that I keep that to myself, though. Dean looks like he wants to strangle me even when I don't say anything stupid.

* * *

Another hour and we're in the Impala, with me inwardly fangirling the entire time, this time headed to Chuck's house. I really hope Chuck doesn't give me away, but at the same time, I'm distracted by the classic car we're in now. It's a little hard to believe Dean had rebuilt the Impala from scratch only a few years earlier, but I can see a little army man toy crammed messily into the ashtray and the carved initials _DW _and _SW_ into the leather interior of the car.

Some things would never leave the car, no matter how many times one rebuilt it.

Dean sees me admiring the inside of the car and quirks a smile at last.

"You like my baby, I'm guessing."

Taking the opening, I nod and add, "I don't know much about cars, but I know a beautiful car when I see one." Dean nods, as if I've passed some sort of secret test, and Sam gives me an amused look.

"Kiss-ass," he teases me lightly and I look appropriately offended.

"I'll have you know that I begged my mom for a '67 Impala once I got my license."

He snorts. "Yeah? And what did your mom do?"

I grimace. "She gave me our old Toyota Camry instead."

"A _Toyota_," Dean repeats, sounding scandalized at the very thought.

"I know," I sigh.

* * *

When we finally arrive at Chuck's house two hours later - how do the Winchesters _stand_ these car trips daily? - we're all tired and irritated and eager for answers.

Too bad Chuck's house looks like it's destroyed when we open the unlocked door.

"Holy crap," I say, stunned by the damage, "Looks like a bomb went off in here." It hadn't seemed nearly this bad on the show.

Dean shushes me - he's had enough experience with that in the past few hours - before stepping into the house. Sam places an arm around my shoulders as he leads me inside, holding me close to his side. Water drips from the ceiling as we carefully step over broken plaster and wood all over the floor. Something creaks behind us and we whirl around simultaneously, but nothing stirs behind us. We trudge on through the house.

Abruptly, something large swings towards Sam, whacking him on the head. He stumbles away from me, clutching at his head.

"Jeez! Ow!"

"Sam?" Our attacker, a wiry man holding a plunger above his head like a mace, lowers said "weapon" slowly, looking confused.

"Yes!" Sam snaps, more out of pain than actual anger, as he rubs his head.

"Hey, Chuck," Dean greets cheerfully.

"So...you're okay?" Chuck glances at all of us, his pale blue eyes lingering the longest on me. I huddle back against Sam's side nervously.

"Well, my head hurts," Sam says dryly.

"No, I-I mean, my...my last vision. You went, like, full-on Vader. Your body temperature was one-fifty, your heart rate was two hundred. Your eyes went black." Sam's arm around my shoulders tighten defensively.

"Your eyes went black?" Dean echoes and Sam turns towards him, his expression hurt.

"I didn't know."

I hesitate before tugging Sam's sleeve. If I'm going to play dumb past the third season, I'm going to have to ask more questions. "What's he talking about?" Sam looks back down at me, his hurt fading into resignation as he shakes his head.

"Later, Ariel."

"And you." Chuck points at me. "I saw you, too, here and now. But you were all...fuzzy."

"Fuzzy?" I snort. "I know I'm adorable, if that's what you mean."

"No, no, it was like...like a television with only half a signal. The picture's full of static and blurred around the edges."

I'm not sure what that means, so I revert back to sarcasm. "What can I say? I'm a girl of many mysteries."

"Yeah, apparently." Dean's watching me now, his eyes narrowed once more. "She says she read your books."

"I am so sorry," Chuck apologizes immediately, turning to me.

While I haven't actually read the books, I feel sorry for the self-deprecating author and reassure him, "They weren't bad. Sure, the writing itself could use a little work, but the story was compelling." I'm running purely on things mentioned in the show, so I'm relieved when Chuck relaxes enough to give me a grateful smile.

"Where's Cas?" Dean cuts in and Chuck looks back at him.

"He's dead. Or gone. The archangel smote the crap out of him." Seeing Dean's stricken expression, the prophet adds, "I'm sorry."

"You sure? I mean, maybe he just vanished into the light or something," Dean says hopefully.

"Oh, no. He, like, exploded. Like a water balloon of chunky soup."

I grimace at the vivid imagery. "Chuck. Too much info."

"Oh." Chuck looks appropriately chastised.

"You got a-" Sam gestures vaguely at Chuck's ear and the prophet reaches into his own hair, pulling out a bloody tooth.

"Oh, God. Is that a molar? It is," he confirms his own question. "I've got a molar in my hair. This has been a really stressful day." Awkwardly, I pat his shoulder.

"Cas, you stupid bastard," Dean hisses to the empty air, his voice wounded.

"Stupid?" Sam turns to Dean. "He was trying to help us."

"Yeah, exactly." Dean turns a broken gaze on Sam.

"So what now?"

"I don't know."

"You guys done exchanging meaningful looks yet?" I pipe up, earning a mild glare from Sam and a more intense glare from Dean.

"Oh, crap," Chuck says suddenly, "I can feel them."

"Thought we'd find you here." The new voice right behind me causes me to spin around and yelp at the sudden appearance of three newcomers, the bald one in the front having been the speaker. I scramble back to hide behind Sam, who clutches me to his side protectively. "Playtime's over, Dean," the bald man continues, "Time to come with us."

"You just keep your distance, asshat," Dean snarls, pointing at him warningly.

"You're upset." The man tilts his head slightly, clearly mocking Dean.

"Yeah. A little. You sons of bitches jump-started Judgment Day!"

"Maybe we let it happen. We didn't start anything. In fact, we even brought you help." The man looks at me and I tighten my hold on Sam's jacket. "Hi, there, Ariel. I don't think we've met. I'm Zachariah."

"She doesn't care," Dean interrupts, stepping between us, and I'm grateful for the loss of eye contact. Zachariah is creepy, and the fact that he's powerful enough to yank me across a dimension for his own morbid amusement makes me both angry and terrified.

"Point is, you had a chance to stop your brother and you didn't." Sam ducks his head, ashamed, and I huddle closer to him. "So let's not quibble over who started what. Let's just say it's all our faults and move on. 'Cause like it or not, it's Apocalypse Now. And we're back on the same team again."

"That so?" Dean raises an eyebrow.

"You want to kill the Devil. We want you to kill the Devil. It's...synergy." I make a note to look that word up at some point.

"And I'm just supposed to trust you?" Not waiting for Zachariah's response, Dean snaps, "Cram it with walnuts, ugly!"

"This isn't a game, son," Zachariah says, his smile fading slightly, "Lucifer is powerful in ways that defy description. We need to strike now, hard and fast...before he finds his vessel."

"His vessel?" I pipe up, frowning.

"Lucifer needs a meat suit?" Sam adds, which partially answers my question.

"He is an angel. Them's the rules." I then remember Pamela Barnes, and her blindness after having witnessed Castiel's true form. Vessels allow angels to walk the Earth, I finally recall. "And when he touches down, we're talking Four Horsemen, red oceans, fiery skies, the greatest hits. You can stop him, Dean, but you need our help."

"You listen to me, you two-faced douche." I'm starting to remember why Dean's my favorite. "After what you did, I don't want jack squat from you!"

"_You_ listen to _me_, boy! You think you can rebel against us? As Lucifer did?" Zachariah's gaze drops to Dean's clenched fist, which is dripping blood. "You're bleeding."

"Oh, yeah. A little insurance policy in case you dicks showed up." Dean tugs on a sliding door and slams his palm over the bloody sigil inscribed there. It shines with white light and the room goes white for a moment. I shut my eyes and when I open them, Zachariah and his angel flunkies are gone. "Learned that from my friend, Cas, you son of a bitch!" Dean calls towards the ceiling.

"Freaking ninja," I croak, staring at Dean, "When'd you draw that?" I don't recall ever seeing Dean cut his hand or draw a sigil, but he merely shrugs and gives me a smirk.

"This sucks ass," Chuck summarizes all our feelings.

* * *

**Hopefully this story will pick up the pace once _Sympathy for the Devil_ is out of the way. For reasons obvious to those who know me, I'm eager to get to _Changing Channels_, but I have to be patient and trudge my way through slowly.**

**People have asked me if I've based Ariel off myself and I will answer this by saying "in part." For example, she and I do both go to the same university, and are the same age, but while I am completely caught up with Supernatural (and have memorized a crap ton more in terms of details), Ariel is still near the end of Season Five, and doesn't remember tiny things like the douchebag angel's name - Zachariah - or specific things that happen in an episode. I find it will allow for a lot more spontaneity than "This will happen and I know it because I watch the show, herp-de-derp."**

**Again, I don't plan to make her a Mary-Sue by using some of my own details to shape her, and if I accidentally make her just that, I DEPEND ON YOU TO WARN ME.**

**(God, I hope that ramble made sense. I'd hate to have to type it out again in layman's terms.)**

**Reviews are good. Constructive criticism is our friend. Give it for free by typing it into that little text box below. Right down there. C'mon. You can do it.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

* * *

_**Then:**  
_

_"Oh, yeah. A little insurance policy in case you dicks showed up." Dean tugs on a sliding door and slams his palm over the bloody sigil inscribed there. It shines with white light and the room goes white for a moment. I shut my eyes and when I open them, Zachariah and his angel flunkies are gone. "Learned that from my friend, Cas, you son of a bitch!" Dean calls towards the ceiling._

_"Freaking ninja," I croak, staring at Dean, "When'd you draw that?" I don't recall ever seeing Dean cut his hand or draw a sigil, but he merely shrugs and gives me a smirk._

_"This sucks ass," Chuck summarizes all our feelings._

**_Now:_**

We leave Chuck's within the hour to throw the angels off our tracks and hole up in a motel. There are only two beds, both in equally terrible shape, but Sam takes the old lumpy couch despite my protests, dropping his duffel bag on it before promptly disappearing outside. I drop my backpack onto one of the beds, watching Dean go about preparing salt lines around the motel room.

"How long am I supposed to stay here?" I demand when he finally straightens after laying down the last salt line.

"Long as it takes." Dean's stern expression softens marginally. "Look, kid, I know it's not ideal, but you're safer with us than with those dicks with wings. Soon as all of this blows over, first thing we'll do is take you back to Jersey."

"I know." I drop my gaze to my clasped hands in my lap. "D'you think it's true? What Zachariah said about bringing me here to help?"

"Wouldn't put it past 'em. What I don't get is why."

"When you figure that out, let me know, too." I give Dean a wry smile. "I'm just a regular human being. I don't know anything outside of the first se - series of Chuck's books." I had almost said "seasons," which would have undoubtedly led Dean to suspect me.

"Yeah, about that. What's with what Chuck said? 'Bout that vision of you?"

I shrug. "I dunno. I'm nothing special."

Dean looks like he wants to question me further, but maybe he sees the sincerity in my expression, because he nods in acceptance. "Okay." He hesitates before squeezing my shoulder. "For what it's worth, I'm, uh...I'm sorry this happened to you."

I can't help but grin back up at him. "Thanks." There's the Dean I had loved over the first few seasons, not the rude guy who had dragged me along for the past day.

The door opens and Sam returns, carrying a plastic bag full of clothes and a small drawstring bag made of what appears to be jean-cloth.

"Here, since you're gonna be around for a while. Sorry if they don't fit right, I kind of had to guess your size." He hands me the bag of clothes and I rifle through it, coming up with a clean pair of dark blue jeans and a plain black T-shirt, along with a black sweatshirt.

"No, this is fine." I give him a grateful smile. "Thanks." I go to the small bathroom to change into the clean clothes, shoving the dirty ones into the same plastic bag to use as a temporary laundry bag. I would have to get clean underwear on my own time - it would be cruel punishment to make Sam get women's underwear as well as clothes. Surprisingly, the jeans and shirt fit almost perfectly once I cut off the tags and slip them on. I tie my hair in a ponytail using a spare scrunchie from my backpack before finally opening the bathroom door again.

Dean and Sam look tense, clearly in the middle of an argument, and I pause at the doorway.

"Look, all I'm saying is, why do we have to put this under a microscope?" Dean says at last, his eyes flicking to me before returning to Sam. "We made a mess. We clean it up. That's it."

Sam nods, swallowing.

"All right," Dean confirms with a nod of his own. "So say this is just any other hunt. You know? What do we do first?"

"We'd, uh, figure out where the thing is," Sam supplies.

"So essentially, we're searching for Satan," I deadpan. Lucifer had always just seemed more funny and casual on the show, but he's real here, real and dangerous, and the idea of actively seeking him out does not sit well with me. Still, we're stuck in this situation and there doesn't seem to be another way out.

Sam nods and that's when I notice my half-open backpack. Dean shuffles guiltily.

"You went through my stuff?" I demand exasperatedly. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised, but still, I had expected a little privacy. My purse remains untouched, surprisingly - maybe I had interrupted Dean's search before he had reached it, which is good because the dates on my driver's license would have been far too difficult to explain.

"I was curious," Dean defends himself.

"And you didn't stop him because...?" I look at Sam, who flushes.

"Um. I was curious, too?"

"Screw you both." I wish I could hit them, but they're both at least a foot taller than me, so I settle for punching Dean's arm. It hurts me more than him and he snickers as I flex my fingers, wincing, before grabbing my backpack and settling for sorting the books inside, only to find that they're not there. "Where are my books?" Sam coughs and I turn to see my books on the coffee table. The giant is flicking through my Differential Equations textbook, his expression flashing somewhere between interest and confusion.

"Never had to take beyond first semester calculus," he informs me and I huff.

"Pre-law." I grab the book back from him and shove it into my backpack.

"Pre-med," he scoffs in the exact same tone when he sees my biology textbook in the pile.

"Biomedical engineer," I correct. Dean's head snaps back and forth between us, as if he's watching a fast-paced volleyball game.

"Well, that explains this." Sam holds up my biomechanics textbook. I shove it and the biology textbook into the bag. Sam picks up the last textbook, Microeconomics, and raises an eyebrow.

"Dude, even _I_ don't know why I have to take that." I take it back from him, glad that my textbooks are relatively lightweight this semester. "Quit touching my stuff," I scold both of them and they look chastised. It's rather satisfying to see two grown men, both over six feet, looking guilty because a five-foot-two midget has scolded them. "Look, I'm trusting you two not to get me killed, as stupid as that might be on my part, so you're gonna have to give me a little trust, too. Okay?"

Sam nods first and after a moment, Dean agrees.

* * *

After those eventful first few hours in the motel, things calm down after Sam explains that we now have a hex bag concealing us from both angels and demons. Sam is now staring at John Winchester's journal, which has been placed on the table - but not before both Winchesters warn me never to touch it - while Dean watches the news on the small motel television. I hover between the two indecisively. I want to read, but the only thing I have are my textbooks.

No way am I touching those. I barely touch them when I'm _in_ school.

"_How would you then explain an earthquake, a hurricane, and multiple tornadoes, all at the same time, all around the globe?_" a newscaster spoke on the television to an environmentalist.

"_Two words. Carbon emissions._"

I snort and, in agreement with me, Dean grumbles, "Yeah, right, wavy gravy."

A knock on the door starts us all out of our relaxed states and we glance at each other. Sam heads for the door while Dean pulls out his gun. I sit back on the empty bed, worried, but when Sam pulls open the door, a young woman with dark blonde hair is standing there. She looks excited, her breaths coming out in tiny gasps as she stares at Sam.

"You okay, lady?" Sam asks cluelessly.

"Sam, is it really you?" Sam looks at us, bewildered, and the woman takes the opportunity to touch his chest shamelessly. "And you're so _firm_." I think I might have broken a rib from trying not to laugh.

"Uh, do I know you?"

"No." The woman pulls back at last. "But I know you. You're Sam Winchester. And you're-" She looks past Sam at Dean, who puts his gun away hastily. "-not what I pictured." She blinks at me next. "And who're you?"

"Me?" I get an awful idea then and duck under Sam's arm quickly, snuggling against his side. "I'm his girlfriend." Dean chokes with laughter as Sam turns bright red.

"W-What?" The woman looks horrified.

"She's kidding!" Sam says hurriedly, shoving me off him, and I snicker as I return to my bed.

"Nah, I'm just their hostage."

The woman doesn't look inclined to take my word for anything anymore. "I'm Becky," she says, now speaking to Sam as she enters the motel room. Sam shuts the door behind her. "I read all about you guys, and I've even written a few-" She looks down, flushing, and I groan.

"Oh, no, you're _that_ type of fan! You ship _it_, don't you?"

"Oh, yes." Becky grins wickedly and I resist the urge to puke.

"What?" Dean and Sam look at me.

"Wincest." They blanch and don't bother asking me to elaborate.

"Anyway, Mr. Edlund told me where you were," Becky cuts in.

"Chuck?" Dean raises his eyebrows.

"He's got a message, but he's being watched. Angels. Nice change-up to the mythology, by the way. The demon stuff was getting kind of old." Becky's speaking as if it's still a story, as if we get a choice in the matter.

"Right." Sam looks increasingly more uncomfortable in her presence. "Just, um...what's the message?"

"He had a vision. 'The Michael Sword is on Earth. The angels lost it,'" Becky repeats.

"Michael Sword?" Dean echoes. I have a horrible feeling I know where this is going, but I remain quiet.

"Becky, does he know where it is?" Sam prompts.

"In a castle, on a hill made of forty-two dogs." We all stare at her. "I know, it doesn't make sense, but that's what he said. I memorized every word." She steps closer to Sam, placing her hand on his chest again. "For you."

"Um, Becky, c-can you...quit touching me?" Sam stammers, clearing his throat awkwardly.

"No." Becky's eyes are closed and she looks blissed out.

Dean and I don't bother trying to hide our laughter anymore.

* * *

It takes a long time to shove Becky out the door and even longer for Sam to stop blushing, especially since I keep poking fun at him for it, but at last, the motel is quiet once more. Dean calls Bobby after Becky leaves and Bobby promises to be there within a few hours.

I'm not sure when it happens, but I doze off after about half an hour of inactivity, and wake up to Sam shaking my shoulder.

"Bobby's a few minutes out. Figured you should be awake when he gets here." I nod with a yawn, rubbing my eyes to rid myself of exhaustion. Ironically, I feel better rested than I have felt even before this mess started. I look around for Dean, but he's not there. "He's in the shower," Sam supplies and the sound of water running reaches my ears then.

"How long was I out?" I ask as I stifle another yawn.

"Two hours. You look like you needed it." Sam looks amused.

"Yeah, I'd only gotten two hours of sleep before this whole mess started. My roommate, Piper, had me pulling an all-nighter while we crammed for an exam and-" My throat tightens as Piper drifts to the front of my mind.

"Ariel?" Sam sounds concerned as he squeezes my shoulder.

"What if they're looking for me? Piper, my parents, everyone I know?" I swallow back the lump in my throat. "I can't be here, I have to go home."

"I know." Sam looks genuinely apologetic as he continues, "But you're-"

"-safer here," I finish for him, forcing back the tears threatening to fall.

"I'm sorry." Sam's arms wrap fully around my shoulders, tugging me against him, and I don't hesitate to bury my face into his chest. I don't cry, but the embrace is comforting enough that any tears that had been in my eyes spill down my cheeks. I wipe my face with my sleeve, sniffling even as I huddle against Sam. He holds me tightly without saying a word, for which I'm grateful. The last thing I want is to be coddled over my own inability to grasp the situation.

I calm down after a few minutes and pull out of the embrace, which is good because Dean chooses then to step out of the shower.

"Thanks," I mumble so that the older Winchester can't hear and Sam smiles back faintly. There's still something lurking behind his eyes, the same weary miserable look he'd worn since I had first seen him on the plane, but I can't bring myself to ask about it. Even if I know the true cause of it - come on, I might forget stupid things like the crazy fangirl, but even _I_ know what happened at the end of the fourth season of _Supernatural_ - it's not my place to ask.

My musings are cut short by a knock on the door and Dean gets it. A bearded man in a trucker's cap stands there, his eyes crinkled in a smile. I recognize him immediately from the show, of course, but if I distance myself from having already known him, I would have liked him, anyway, grumpy mannerisms and all. He just seems like that one nice uncle you've always been close to from childhood.

"Hey, Bobby." Dean hugs Bobby tightly, relieved, and Bobby squeezes his shoulders in return, patting his back briefly.

"Good to see you boys in one piece." Bobby hugs Sam, who is beaming widely, next. Both Winchesters seem much more relaxed now as Dean closes the door.

"You weren't followed, were you?" Dean asks.

"By who? Angels, demons, or Sam's new superfan?"

Sam laughs. "You heard."

"I heard, Romeo." Bobby glances at me, his eyebrows furrowing. "Who's the kid?"

"She was pulled out of Jersey and landed on that plane with us," Dean explains as he circles around to sit on one of the beds. "We couldn't let the angels just get a hold of her, so we brought her with us."

Bobby nods. "Just as well. What do you reckon the angels want with her?"

"Well, she doesn't have a clue, but-"

"_She_ is right here," I cut in irritably. Bobby rolls his eyes at me, as if he could care less, but at least Dean looks apologetic. "Can we just get on with this 'Sword of Michael' crap?" I add so that the subject can be turned away from me.

"You think we're talking about the actual sword from the actual archangel?" Sam asks, going along with the subject change.

"You better friggin' hope so." Bobby nods to the door. "I've got a couple books in the trunk." I hop up from the bed; at least I'd be useful in carrying books. Sam and I carry the books in - by which time I feel like my shoulders are about to dislocate while the overgrown man laughs at me - and set them down on the table.

Bobby picks up the topmost book from the pile and opens it to an oil painting. "That's Michael. Toughest son of a bitch they got."

Dean snorts and even I can see the amusement in it. Michael looks like a girl.

"You kidding me? Tough? That guy looks like Cate Blanchett."

"Well, I wouldn't want to meet him in a dark alley, believe me," Bobby retorts, "He commands the heavenly Host. During the last big dust-up upstairs, he's the one who booted Lucifer's ass to the basement. Did it with that sword." He points to the long broadsword in Michael's outstretched hand. "So if we can find it..."

"We can ice the Devil," Sam realizes, "All right, so where do we start?"

"Divvy up and start reading. All three of you. Try and make sense of Chuck's nonsense." Dean grabs the book Bobby had been using while Sam and I head for the pile. Halfway there, Sam stops in his tracks, his expression pensive. "Kid? You all right?" Sam turns at the sound of Bobby's voice.

"No, actually. Bobby, this is all my fault. I'm sorry." I hesitate, hovering anxiously behind Sam.

"Sam," Dean says gruffly, a warning to shut up, but Sam continues.

"Lilith didn't break the final seal. Lilith was the final seal. I killed her, and I set Lucifer free." Sam looks resigned to his fate, and despite the horrible things he's admitting to, something in my chest twists painfully at the broken expression on his face.

"You _what_?" Apparently, Bobby doesn't share my sympathy.

"You guys warned me about Ruby, the demon blood, but I didn't listen. I brought this on." I remember that; Sam's addiction to demon blood is what fueled all of the fourth season of the show. Sam's struggle seems all the more painful now that it's real.

"You're damn right you didn't listen. You were reckless and selfish and arrogant." Bobby scowls as he approaches Sam. The younger Winchester swallows and I look at Dean, who watches the scene play out silently.

"I'm sorry," Sam croaks weakly.

"Oh, yeah? You're sorry you started _Armageddon_? This kind of thing don't get forgiven, boy. If, by some miracle, we pull this off...I want you to lose my number. You understand me?" Now that doesn't sound like Bobby, but it doesn't stop the hurt flashing across Sam's face. Sam ducks his head and nods sharply, clearly fighting tears. Dean still says nothing, his expression stony.

"There's an old church nearby. Maybe I'll go read some of the lore books there," Sam suggests quietly.

"Yeah, you do that." Bobby crosses his arms as Sam turns to leave. I move around Sam to stand next to Dean before smacking him upside the head.

He starts and rubs his head. "Woman!" I hit him again before following Sam out the door.

* * *

**I swear, I don't mean to make Ariel so Sam-oriented. She'll warm up to Dean when he quits being an awful brother. Or when Cas arrives. Or both. ;)**

**Reviews are our friends. Cherish them. Give them.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

* * *

_**Then:**_

_"Oh, yeah? You're sorry you started _Armageddon?_ This kind of thing don't get forgiven, boy. If, by some miracle, we pull this off...I want you to lose my number. You understand me?" Now that doesn't sound like Bobby, but it doesn't stop the hurt flashing across Sam's face. Sam ducks his head and nods sharply, clearly fighting tears. Dean still says nothing, his expression stony._

_"There's an old church nearby. Maybe I'll go read some of the lore books there," Sam suggests quietly._

_"Yeah, you do that." Bobby crosses his arms as Sam turns to leave. I move around Sam to stand next to Dean before smacking him upside the head._

_He starts and rubs his head. "Woman!" I hit him again before following Sam out the door._

_**Now:**_

Sam stops halfway down the street when he hears my footsteps behind him, but doesn't look at me. "You don't have to come with me."

"I know." I catch up to him, stopping when I'm at his side.

"You heard what I did. It's my fault Lucifer's free, that all of this started." His voice breaks slightly and he shuts his eyes with a sharp inhale, turning away from me.

"It's kind of like when I failed Organic Chemistry last semester," I note.

Sam snorts, even though it sounds more like he's holding back a strangled sob. "Failing a class and ending the world are kinda different."

"Wait, hear me out on this one. Thing is, I'd studied really hard for that final, and slacked off all my other classes to do that. I thought I'd aced it. Turned out I'd gotten a twenty percent, which meant I'd failed the class, too." Sam is silent, still facing away from me, but I can tell he's listening. "You thought you were doing the right thing by killing Lilith. She's the one who sent Dean to hell, right? That was the last book of the series." Sam nods once. "So it was about revenge, and stopping the Apocalypse. So you slack off on maintaining your relationship with your brother to take that opportunity. But it turns out the opposite of what you'd planned: Lilith _wanted_ you to kill her, and Ruby manipulated you into that situation."

"I chose her over Dean." Sam's fists clench with the exertion of fighting his emotions. "That...I can't be forgiven for that."

"You guys are much angstier than the books give you credit for," I tell him frankly. This seems to lighten the mood, because Sam chuckles weakly as he turns to face me at last. His eyes are bright with unshed tears, but he's smiling all the same. That counts as a success to me. "Look, let's just head back to the motel, do the research there. Bobby and Dean are douchebags, we get it, but we can smack some sense into them - we meaning just me, of course," I add and Sam grins again. "-and we'll all save the day and skip merrily off into the sunset."

"Sounds good to me," he agrees and I attempt to throw my arm around his broad shoulders. I can't quite reach, since I'm more than a foot shorter, so I settle for looping my arm through his. With a smile, Sam turns and heads back to the motel room with me in tow.

When we open the door, we expect to find Bobby or Dean glaring at us. Instead, Bobby's bleeding from a stab wound on the floor, the famous demon-killing knife still embedded in his abdomen, and Dean is pinned to the floor by a man with pitch-black eyes. I don't mean his irises are black. I mean his _eyes_ are black.

"No!" Sam releases me and rushes to Bobby's side, but a woman with black eyes steps into his path. I stumble to the side, terrified and scrambling for something to use against the demons.

"Heya, Sammy. You miss me?" the woman sneers, "'Cause I sure missed you."

"Meg?" I'm surprised Sam recognizes her so quickly, since I only really remember her from the first season as the short-haired blonde demon. He swings at her and misses while Dean struggles uselessly against the grip of the demon holding him down. Meg takes the opportunity to kick Sam in the crotch and send him down.

I'm frozen in place; the blood on the floor surrounding Bobby has scared me into stopping in my tracks. I force my arm back over the table and my fingers brush over something cold and metal. Yanking on it, I come up with a metal flask with a cross engraved on it.

As I uncap it, I pray that it's holy water and even as Meg taunts Sam with something along the lines of "Not so easy without those super-special demon powers, huh, Sammy?", I splash the contents in her face. She shrieks and stumbles back, her skin smoking as the holy water burns her, and the male demon is distracted. This allows Dean to knock him off and scramble to his own feet. He grabs the demon-killing knife from Bobby's stomach - I wince at the sickening sound of metal being pulled from flesh - and stabs the male demon with it.

It's morbidly satisfying to watch a demon die, and the television doesn't do it justice. Amber light flickers within the demon's body, highlighting his vessel's skeleton, and he crumples, dead. As Dean straightens and turns to a recovered Meg, she screams and black smoke escapes her mouth. It zooms towards me and I duck out of the way, causing the smoke to smash through the window and disappear. The woman she had been possessing collapses to the floor lifelessly and Dean puts away the knife at last.

"Bobby," Sam croaks at last, stumbling to his feet and dropping to his knees again next to the prone form of the older hunter. Dean turns his attention to Bobby, too, his eyes wide with worry.

"Should we call an ambulance?" I suggest helplessly, my voice cracking with panic. I may not have known Bobby for long, but I sure as hell don't want him dead.

"No time," Dean says gruffly, "We'll take him in the car. Sam?" Sam nods and lifts Bobby up, making it look almost effortless. Dean grabs the keys to the Impala and runs out the door, Sam following, and I leave the motel room last so that I won't get in the way.

Dean jerks his head to the backseat and Sam places Bobby inside before climbing in with him. "Kid, front." I obey, something in the back of my mind absently noting that Dean rarely extends this privilege to people other than Sam, and if this wasn't such a high-stress situation, he never would have allowed me to sit up front.

The car ride to the nearest hospital is tense and short, and I'll admit to being glad it's over when we park haphazardly in a spot and rush into the emergency room.

"Need some help here!" Dean shouts as we run in, Sam still carrying Bobby.

"What happened?" a nurse demands, looking shocked at our blood-covered forms.

"He was stabbed." Sam lowers Bobby onto a gurney nearby and two other nurses wheel the older man away. We move to follow, but the first nurse stops us.

"You wait here. I have some questions for you." She turns to follow the nurses into the trauma ward and we hesitate.

"We've gotta go," Dean decides at last.

"We can't leave him," Sam protests.

"The demons heard where the sword is. We've got to get to it before they do, if we're not too late already." Dean huffs exasperatedly when he sees our unconvinced expressions. "Look, the kid can stay here-"

"Absolutely not," I interrupt, wide-eyed. I'm relatively sure I'm traumatized by our recent experience and I have no intention of being an open target.

"Fine," Dean snaps back at me, irritated for wasting time, before looking back at Sam, who reluctantly nods. "C'mon." He heads back out to the Impala as Sam and I follow him.

I resume my place in the backseat while Sam takes the front with Dean, trying not to look at the bloodstain where Bobby had bled in the car. The engine roars to life as Dean slams on the acceleration. We peal out of the parking lot and join the highway.

"Where are we going?" Sam asks quietly once we were a few minutes away from the hospital.

"Upstate New York. Dad had a lockup there, Castle Storage. 42 Rover Hill."

"A castle on a hill made of forty-two dogs," I echo the bizarre message Becky had given us and Dean nods to me in the rearview mirror. "You think your dad had the Michael Sword?"

"It's worth checking," Sam points out.

* * *

Turns out it _was_ worth checking, because when we arrive there, there are several dead demons on the floor. Their eyes are burned out of their heads and I'm forced to remind myself that I'm not supposed to be squeamish.

"What the hell?" Dean demands to neither Sam nor me in particular, looking around as he lowers the shotgun in his hands. Sam, too, lowers his shotgun. I haven't been trusted with a weapon, and with good reason.

"I see you told the demons where the Michael Sword is." I pray that the owner of that voice is not who I think it is, but when I turn, there's Zachariah in all his bald angelic glory, backed up by the same two angel flunkies.

"Oh, thank God. The angels are here," Dean deadpans and I wonder if he's blaspheming by thanking God sarcastically. Who am I kidding? This is Dean. Of course he is.

"And to think, they could have grabbed it any time they wanted," Zachariah continues without acknowledging Dean. He waves his hand and the door closes. I'm starting to feel like I've been shoved into a horror film rather than _Supernatural_. "It was right in front of them."

"What do you mean?" Sam pipes up, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion. I remember where this is going now at last, and I feel like such an idiot. And I claim to be a fan of the show.

"We may have planted that particular piece of prophecy inside Chuck's skull, but it happened to be true. We did lose the Michael Sword. We truly couldn't find it. Until now. You've just hand-delivered it to us." Zachariah's eyes flicker to me. "Judging by how pale little Ariel's gotten, I think she's just figured it out."

"Air?" Sam and Dean turn to me, both frowning.

"It's you," I say at last, looking up at Dean before dropping my gaze to the floor again.

"What?" Dean says blankly.

"What, you thought you could actually kill Lucifer?" Zachariah cuts in, seeing that my explanation isn't enough. "You simpering wad of insecurity and self-loathing? No. You're just a human, Dean. And not much of one." That's a little harsh.

"What do you mean, I'm the sword?" Dean prompts, scowling.

"You're Michael's weapon. Or, rather, his...receptacle."

"...I'm a vessel?" Dean croaks.

"You're _the_ vessel. Michael's vessel."

"How? Why - why me?" Sam and I watch on, the former stunned and scared and the latter, A.K.A. me, feeling more and more like I've dug myself into a deeper grave.

"Because you're chosen! It's a great honor, Dean."

"Oh, yeah. Yeah, life as an angel condom. That's real fun. I think I'll pass, thanks." As much as I love Dean's sarcasm, I'm not sure his timing is appropriate.

Zachariah doesn't look impressed, either. "Joking. Always joking. Well...no more jokes." He raises a hand and points it at me like a gun. "Bang." Two cracks echo through the room simultaneously and a sharp piercing sensation shoots up my spine as I crumple, my legs no longer able to hold me up.

Sam catches me, lowering me to the floor carefully even as he calls my name, startled, but I can't answer him as I struggle to breathe through the blinding agony of having both my legs broken at the same time.

"You son of a bitch," Dean snarls, turning on Zachariah, and somewhere through the haze of pain, I find myself touched that he and Sam are defending a girl they barely know.

"Keep mouthing off, I'll break more than the little princess's legs. I am completely and utterly through screwing around." I can barely hear Zachariah, but he sounds angry. I bury my face into Sam's shoulder and he slips his hand into mine. I squeeze his fingers so hard that I'm afraid they'll break, too. "The war has begun. We don't have our general. That's bad. Now, Michael is going to take his vessel and lead the final charge against the adversary. You understand me?"

"How many humans die in the crossfire, huh? A million? Five, ten?" Dean demands.

"Probably more," Zachariah says matter-of-factly, "If Lucifer goes unchecked, you know how many die? All of them. He'll roast the planet alive."

"There's a reason you're telling me this instead of just nabbing me. You need my consent. Michael needs my say-so to ride around in my skin." Sam's grip tightens on me slightly at Dean's observation. "There's gotta be another way."

"There is no other way. There must be a battle. Michael must defeat the Serpent. It is written."

"Yeah, maybe. But, on the other hand...eat me. The answer's no." I wish I wasn't concentrating so much on breathing through the pain, because I want to either hug or high-five Dean.

"Okay. How about this? Your friend, Bobby. We know he's gravely injured. Say yes, and we'll heal him. Say no, he'll never walk again." Now that's just unfair. I mean, Dean's already compromised because of some random kid he and Sam dragged along, but now Zachariah's threatening people he actually cares about? I wonder if I can draw an angel-banishing sigil without being noticed, assuming I'd remember the shape.

Dean hesitates before replying, "No."

"Then how about we heal you from...stage-four stomach cancer?" Dean doubles over then and I see him coughing into his hand. Dark red liquid - blood- drips from his palm.

"No," he rasps again.

"Then let's get really creative. Uh, let's see how...Sam does without his lungs." Sam lets out a strangled gasp suddenly and releases me, collapsing to the floor.

"Sam!" I press my hand to his chest, trying to ground him as he had done for me, and he gasps again, trying to draw rattling breaths into lungs that simply aren't there, and tears burn my eyes as I watch him convulse on the ground.

"Stop it!" Dean says sharply and I turn back to see him glancing between Sam and Zachariah desperately.

"Are we having fun yet? You're going to say yes, Dean." Zachariah smiles serenely.

"Just kill us," Dean retorts harshly.

"Kill you? Oh, no. I'm just getting started." Before Zachariah can do just that, though, a white light flashes behind him. One of the angels behind him crumples, a bloody hole torn in his throat - the sight makes me slightly nauseous, but I force the bile down - revealing a familiar shock of black hair and the bluest eyes I've ever seen.

"Cas," Dean says, his tone almost reverent, and I feel a rush of relief. Sam shudders slightly, trying to shift upwards to see Castiel, but unable to do so. I press down on his chest a little further so that he'll stay where he is. Castiel doesn't respond to Dean, but instead slams the other unknown angel against the wall and stabs him in the chest, another white light illuminating the room.

As Zachariah stares, Castiel tears his blade out of the dead angel's chest and takes a menacing step towards Zachariah. Sam takes a shaky breath, his heartbeat stuttering beneath my palm before stopping completely. My attention is torn away from Castiel as I shake Sam's shoulder desperately, the tears in my eyes spilling over. Dean doesn't spare either of us a single look even as I say Sam's name through sobs, shaking him even harder.

"How are you-?" Zachariah begins.

"Alive? That's a good question. How did the Winchesters and the girl end up on that airplane? Another good question. 'Cause the angels didn't do it. I think we both know the answer, don't we?" Castiel's voice is gruff and solemn, but his lips twitch upwards slightly, the closest to a smile I've ever seen him give even on the show.

"No. That's not possible." Zachariah takes a step back.

"It scares you. Well, it should. Now, put them back together and go. I won't ask twice." With a flash of light, Zachariah is gone, and the pain in both my legs vanish. Sam gasps suddenly, his hand scrabbling at his obviously-aching chest, and I finally allow myself to relax as he sits up. I bury my face into his shoulder and he clutches me tightly.

"'S okay, I'm okay," he murmurs hoarsely into my hair before forcing himself to his feet, helping me up in the process. I wobble on my newly-healed legs, but Sam steadies me, and I take the opportunity to wipe my tear-streaked face on my sleeve.

"You need to be more careful," Castiel says, glancing between Sam and Dean before his eyes rest on me. As much as I fangirl over the angel in reality, I've just seen him threaten Zachariah without batting an eye, so I find myself a little intimidated. I huddle against Sam's side nervously.

"Yeah, I'm starting to get that. Your frat brothers are bigger dicks than I thought," Dean says sardonically as he wipes his mouth free of blood on his sleeve.

"I don't mean the angels. Lucifer is circling his vessel. And once he takes it, those hexbags won't be enough to protect you." Castiel steps forward and places a hand on Dean's chest and then Sam's. Both Winchesters gasp as if they've been branded by a hot iron and Castiel withdraws his hands silently.

"What the hell was that?" Dean demands, rubbing his chest.

"An Enochian sigil. It'll hide you from every angel in creation, including Lucifer." Castiel stares at me even as he answers Dean's question, studying me critically. Embarrassed under the scrutiny, I hide my face in Sam's jacket.

"What, did you just brand us with it?" Sam asks, still sounding a little winded.

"No. I carved it into your ribs." Castiel steps closer to me and I automatically step back. "Who are you?" Even though he's looking directly at me, it still takes me a moment to realize he's talking to me.

"Ariel Evans," I say, glad that I don't stammer.

Castiel continues to stare and I'm a little unnerved. "'Ariel' is an angelic name. It means 'lion of God.'"

"Oh." Well, what else am I supposed to say to that?

"And here I was thinkin' she's a little mermaid," Dean snarks and I give him a glare despite the situation.

"You have the sigil carved into your ribs already," Castiel notes and the observation causes all of us to freeze. "That...should not be possible." He finally tears his eyes away from me and I'm relieved that he's no longer studying me. "Keep her safe," he tells Dean and Sam, looking between the hunters, before glancing at me one last time reluctantly. "There's a reason she was brought to this world to aid us in the Apocalypse."

"World?" Sam echoes, raising his eyebrows. I cough, rubbing the back of my neck.

"Um. Can I explain that later?" When neither Sam nor Dean look convinced, I quickly change the subject, "So, uh, Cas, were you really dead?"

Castiel doesn't look impressed with me, but answers grimly, "Yes."

"Then how are you back?" Wordlessly, Castiel vanishes. "Damn. Guess he's not a fan of subject changes." I shuffle nervously under the accusatory glare Dean's throwing at me and the non-accusatory-but-still-confused look Sam gives me.

* * *

It takes much longer than I would have liked to get my situation fully explained to Sam and Dean on the way back to the hospital.

"So let me get this straight," Dean says after the second time I've explained it, "You slipped on..."

"Rocksalt," I supply dully.

"Rocksalt," Dean echoes and snorts. "If that ain't ironic, I don't know what is."

"And then you were falling and you just found yourself on the plane?" Sam finishes the story, frowning at me, and I nod. "Is that how you knew us? Through the T.V. show version of Chuck's books?"

When I'd first mentioned _Supernatural__, _Dean's first response had been, "Who'd want to watch a show about our lives?" When I retorted "Becky," though, he had wisely shut up.

"Yeah, except the show goes past where the books end. The last episode I saw was somewhere in Season Five, the first episode of which we're in now," I answer now.

"The first?" Dean stops at a traffic light on the edge of the town, turning to me. "So you know what'll happen next?" He looks a little too eager for answers and I quickly shake my head.

"I haven't seen all the episodes," I admit. "Just bits and pieces. Piper would've been able to tell you more than me."

Dean scowls as he turns back around to start driving again. "Just our luck. Any chance we can switch you out for your roommate?"

"Trust me, she'd be thrilled," I deadpan, looking out the window. "She's much more cut out for hunting than I am."

"You did just fine with Meg and that other demon," Sam points out with a faint smile. "The holy water was some pretty fast thinking. Right, Dean?" Reluctantly, Dean grunts, the closest Sam and I will get to an agreement.

"Appreciate that," I reply with a weary grin of my own.

* * *

"'Unlikely to walk again?!' Why, you snot-nosed son of a bitch! Wait till I get out of this bed!" Now that the real Bobby is back, I can't stop grinning at how he verbally abuses a doctor until the poor professional runs out the door. "I'll use my game leg and kick your friggin' ass! Yeah, you better run!"

I snort. "And this is the abuse I'll be subject to if I ever go to medical school. Good to know."

Despite his irritation, Bobby smirks slightly at me before looking back at Sam and Dean. "You believe that yahoo?"

"Screw him, you'll be fine," Dean says almost immediately.

"So, let me ask the million-dollar question. What do we do now?" Sam adds.

"Well, we save as many as we can for as long as we can, I guess," Bobby admits, "It's bad. Whoever wins, Heaven or hell, we're boned."

"Uber-boned," I correct.

"What if we win?" Dean says suddenly and we all stare at him. "I'm serious. I mean, screw the angels and the demons and their crap Apocalypse. Hell, they want to fight a war, they can find their own planet. This one's ours, and I say they get the hell off it. We take 'em all on. We kill the Devil. Hell, we even kill Michael if we have to. But we do it our own damn selves." I half-expect 'Eye of the Tiger' to start jamming away halfway through his speech.

"And how are we supposed to do all this, genius?" Bobby snarks.

"I got no idea. But what I do have is a GED and a give-'em-hell attitude, and I'll figure it out." Dean sounds too confident, though, and with one glance at Sam, we both realize that he's lying.

"You are nine kinds of crazy, boy," Bobby tells Dean, though, smiling wryly.

"It's been said." Dean pats the older man's shoulder. "Listen, you stay on the mend. We'll see you in a bit." He heads for the door and Sam and I follow. I make it out the door when I hear Bobby call Sam back.

"I was awake. I know what I said back there. I just want you to know that...that _was_ the demon talking. I ain't cuttin' you out, boy. Not ever."

Sam glances at me and I shrug my shoulders as if to say "I told you so." With a small sigh, he turns back to Bobby and mumbles, "Thanks, Bobby."

"You're welcome. I deserve a damn medal for this, but you're welcome." Bobby smiles and Sam returns it tiredly before joining me and Dean outside.

We make it out to the car before Sam finally speaks again. "Maybe we could go after the Colt."

"Why? What difference would that make?" That's certainly an about-face given Dean's attitude inside the hospital, and my theory's confirmed.

"Well, we could use it on Lucifer. I mean, you just said back there-" Sam begins, but Dean cuts him off.

"I just said a bunch of crap for Bobby's benefit. I mean, I'll fight. I'll fight till the last man, but let's at least be honest. I mean, we don't stand a snowball's chance, and you know that. I mean, hell, you of all people know that." I hesitate, knowing that I'm intruding on something strictly between the brothers, but there's nowhere else I can wander off to, so I stay.

"Dean, is there something you want to say to me?" Sam shoves his hands into his pockets.

Dean pauses before sighing. "I tried, Sammy. I mean, I really tried. But I just can't keep pretending that everything's all right. Because it's not. And it's never going to be. You chose a demon over your own brother and look what happened."

Oh, for the love of-

"I would give anything to take it all back," Sam insists and just like that, all the work I'd put into convincing him that it was simply a mistake is flushed down the drain.

"I know you would. And I know how sorry you are. I do. But, man...you were the one that I depended on the most. And you let me down in ways that I can't even..." I'm mentally begging Dean to just shut up. I know Sam needs to hear it, but at the same time, Dean's going about it all wrong, too. No wonder this show's so fucked up. "I'm just...I'm having a hard time forgiving and forgetting here. You know?"

Sam nods without hesitation.

"I just don't...I don't think that we can ever be what we were. I just don't think I can trust you."

Oh, _ouch_. That's a low blow, and it registers on Sam's face as hurt. Dean hovers indecisively for a moment before getting into the driver's seat. After a moment in which Sam blinks rapidly as if forcing back tears and glances at me briefly with a faint forced smile, he gets into the passenger seat. I slide into the backseat and we leave the hospital parking lot.

* * *

**Ariel, the world doesn't revolve around Sam.**

**Ariel: YES IT DOES MY POOR BBY ;_; IswearI'mnotaSamgirlthough**

**Me: Suuure you aren't. -facepalm- Honestly, the plot's just going everywhere right now, and I promise I'll try to clear up the confusion around Ariel in the near future. Meanwhile, review. Review or I'll send a very angry badass season-4 edition Castiel after you.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

* * *

_**Then:**_

_"I would give anything to take it all back," Sam insists and just like that, all the work I'd put into convincing him that it was simply a mistake is flushed down the drain._

_"I know you would. And I know how sorry you are. I do. But, man...you were the one that I depended on the most. And you let me down in ways that I can't even..." I'm mentally begging Dean to just shut up. I know Sam needs to hear it, but at the same time, Dean's going about it all wrong, too. No wonder this show's so fucked up. "I'm just...I'm having a hard time forgiving and forgetting here. You know?"_

_Sam nods without hesitation._

_"I just don't...I don't think that we can ever be what we were. I just don't think I can trust you."_

_Oh, _ouch_. That's a low blow, and it registers on Sam's face as hurt. Dean hovers indecisively for a moment before getting into the driver's seat. After a moment in which Sam blinks rapidly as if forcing back tears and glances at me briefly with a faint forced smile, he gets into the passenger seat. I slide into the backseat and we leave the hospital parking lot._

_**Now:**_

Two days living with the Winchesters and I'm already about to pull my hair out. Ever since the night in the parking lot, when Dean had told Sam he didn't trust him, all Sam has done is mope around and try to be cheerful for my sake. In turn, I end up trying to be cheerful for _his_ sake. And Dean pretends to be oblivious to our little circle of angst while he mopes around, too, because he's the vessel of Michael.

Forget pulling my own hair out. I'm pulling _their _hair out. And maybe bashing their heads together until they see sense.

Bobby's due to be released from the hospital soon, and we go to see him the day before he's released to secure the paperwork. While Dean and Sam sort that out, no doubt completely ignoring each other in the process, I choose to keep Bobby company. He's not in much of a good mood, either, but hey, at least he has a reason: he's just been told for certain that he will never walk again and will be confined to a wheelchair for the rest of his life.

He doesn't seem to be interested in my company, and tells me so flat out.

"Kid, not that I don't appreciate the thought, but I'm not exactly the nicest of guys on a good day. This ain't a good day."

I shrug back at him. "It's me or the Angst Brothers Extraordinaire. Take your pick."

Seeing my point, Bobby wrinkles his nose and concedes, "At least you're entertaining."

"I knew you guys kept me around for a reason." I grin and reluctantly, Bobby's lips twitch upwards as well.

"Shame you got dragged into this mess."

"Yeah, well. I figure I'm here for some reason or another." I shrug again. "I might as well see it through." Bobby nods, as if he's been in my position - which I suppose he has at some point - and turns back to the window. I get up to find Dean and Sam, but not before placing my hand on Bobby's shoulder. "For what it's worth, I'm really sorry about your legs."

Bobby looks up at me and while his expression is unreadable, his voice is gruff with emotion when he says quietly, "Thanks, Ariel." I nod in acknowledgment before leaving the room.

I find Dean and Sam in the hallway, studying some X-rays. "Dude, are those your_ ribs_?" I ask, peering over Sam's arm at the black-and-white pictures, where strange squiggles are engraved into the bones.

"Yeah." Dean grins. "The doctors were baffled."

"I'll bet," I snort.

"Yeah, well, Cas carved Sam one, too. And apparently, you've got one, too." Dean frowns at me. "Care to explain that, Air?"

"Your guess is as good as my own," I tell him, raising my hands in surrender.

Sam's phone rings and he flips it open, holding it to his ear. "Hello?" His eyes widen. "Cas?"

"Speak of the Devil," Dean mutters.

"Angel," I correct him and smile innocently when he glares at me.

"Uh, St. Martin's Hospital, why? What are you - Cas?" Sam looks at his phone, bewildered, and then I catch sight of a tan trenchcoat among the white lab coats of the doctors in the hallway.

"Cell phone, Cas?" Dean raises an eyebrow when Castiel stops in front of us. "Really? Since when do angels need to reach out and touch someone?"

"Since we're hidden from them," I realize and Castiel nods at me.

"Yes. I won't be able to simply-"

"Enough foreplay," Bobby calls gruffly from inside his hospital room, "Get over here and lay your damn hands on." When Castiel doesn't move, Bobby glances over his shoulder. "Get healing."

Castiel hesitates. "I can't."

Bobby turns his wheelchair around slowly, his voice dangerously low as he snarls, "Say again?"

"I am cut off from Heaven, and much of Heaven's power. Certain things I can do, certain things I can't." Castiel's expression is blank, but it's clear that he regrets the situation.

"So you're telling me you lost your mojo just in time to get me stuck in this trap the rest of my life?" Bobby snaps.

"I'm sorry," Castiel says quietly.

"Shove it up your ass." Scowling, Bobby turns away again.

"Least he's talking now," Dean mutters to Sam.

"I heard that." I grin at Bobby's sullen reply.

"I don't have much time," Castiel cuts in, turning back to Dean and Sam, "We need to talk."

"Okay." Dean shoves his hands into his pockets expectantly.

"Your plan to kill Lucifer-"

"Yeah, you wanna join in?"

Castiel gives Dean an unimpressed look. "No. It's foolish, it can't be done."

I bite back a laugh. "Jeez, Cas, I don't think you burst his bubble hard enough." There's possibly a "pop his cherry" joke to be made, but I restrain myself.

"But I believe I have the solution. There is someone besides Michael strong enough to take on Lucifer. Strong enough to stop the Apocalypse," Castiel continues as if I haven't even spoken.

"Who's that?" Sam asks, raising an eyebrow.

"The one who resurrected me and put you on that airplane. The one who began everything. God."

"God?" we all echo at the same time, something that rarely happens outside of television. I vaguely muse that technically, we're _in_ a television show anyway.

"God," Castiel confirms grimly. "I'm going to find God. He isn't in Heaven. He has to be somewhere."

Dean snorts. "Try New Mexico, I hear he's on a tortilla."

Castiel frowns and says without any hint of irony, "No, he's not on any flatbread."

I can see Sam biting the inside of his cheek to prevent any laughter at the angel's expense even as Dean rolls his eyes and says, "Listen, even if there is a God, he is either dead - and that's the generous theory - "

"He is out there, Dean," Castiel insists.

"-or he's up and kicking and doesn't give a rat's ass about any of us." Dean crosses his arms, his expression bitter. "I mean, look around you, man. The world is in the toilet. We are literally at the end of days here, and he's off somewhere drinking booze out of a coconut. All right?"

"Enough," Castiel snaps, "This is not a theological issue. It's strategic. With God's help, we can win."

"It's a pipe dream, Cas." Something tells me Dean's getting back at Castiel for rejecting his "let's-kill-Satan" plan.

Castiel's expression darkens as he takes a threatening step towards Dean. "I killed two angels this week. My brothers. I'm hunted. I rebelled. And I did it, all of it, for you, and you failed. You and your brother destroyed the world-" Sam swallows at this and looks at the floor. "-and I lost everything, for nothing. So keep your opinions to yourself."

His blue eyes lock onto Dean's dark green ones and they maintain the gaze for a long time until I sing "Eye-seeex~!" teasingly. Flushing, Dean breaks their eye contact and takes a half-hearted swing at me while Sam snickers. Castiel blinks at me, bewildered.

"You didn't come here to tear us a new one," Bobby grumbles from his spot near the window. "What do you want?"

"An amulet," Castiel says simply, "Very rare. Very powerful. It burns hot in God's presence. It'll help me find him."

"Like a God-tracker?" I suggest and Castiel nods.

"Well, I don't know what you're talking about. I got nothing like that," Bobby says with a shrug.

"You don't." Castiel looks at Dean and then at the golden amulet around his neck.

"What, this?" Dean plucks at the black cord holding the amulet, looking bewildered.

"May I borrow it?" Castiel asks.

"No," Dean says immediately.

"Dean." Castiel scowls. "Give it to me."

Finally, Dean gives in, taking off the necklace. "Don't lose it." He drops it onto Castiel's open palm and Castiel tucks it into his pocket. Dean shuffles uncomfortably. "Great, now I feel naked."

I bite back a laugh. "Well, Cas _is_ right here..." Dean gives me an odd look while Sam snorts with amusement, catching my drift. Even Bobby's lips twitch upwards.

Castiel stares at me, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion, before giving up on me and stating solemnly, "I'll be in touch." He disappears in the next instant with a rustle of feathers.

"When you find God, tell him to send a pair of legs!" Bobby calls.

I know it's wrong to laugh at that, but the glare I receive from Bobby is incredibly worth it as I laugh until my sides ache.

* * *

Bobby receives an odd call from Rufus Turner after that, filled with static and the sounds of gunfire.

"River Pass, Colorado?" he asks into the phone and static answers him.

"River Pass!" Rufus yells back, his voice muffled.

"Rufus? You there?"

"Bobby, it's-" Suddenly, gunfire erupts and the call cuts out.

"Well, that's not ominous at all," I break the tense silence with a deadpan joke even as Bobby looks at Dean and Sam. Even before he says a word, Dean cuts in.

"We're on it." He glances at Sam, who nods curtly once in agreement.

"Well, wait, what about me?" I demand and the Winchesters turn to me, raising their eyebrows in unison. I flush, embarrassed. "I mean...if you're gonna be on a case, I can't really tag along, can I?"

"She's right," Sam points out quietly, "She can't shoot a gun - can you?" He looks at me and I shake my head. "Which means she can't defend herself if we take her." Dean rolls his eyes at me, as if it's my fault I'm an inconvenience. Well, technically, it _is_ my fault, but details.

"Leave the kid with me," Bobby suggests, "I'll need some help getting 'round the house, anyway, and I can train up the kid for a bit while you two are on the road."

"You sure?" I turn to Bobby, surprised when he nods.

"Sure, I'm sure." He quirks a smile and I can't help but smile back. "You boys go ahead to River Pass. Ariel and I can head back to my place."

"Okay. Later, Bobby." Dean heads out the door first, clapping my shoulder as he walks past, and Sam nods a goodbye to Bobby before smiling faintly at me as he leaves.

"Don't kill each other!" I call after their retreating backs and as they round the corner, I grimace at Bobby. "They're so gonna kill each other."

He snorts. "Don't I know it. C'mon, kid. Let's get me outta this hell-hole."

* * *

Within the hour, we're on the road with me behind the wheel of a spare car from the junkyard Sam and Dean had brought earlier. Bobby's quiet in the passenger seat, his new wheelchair folded in the back of the car.

I drum my fingers against the wheel as I drive; it's about two hours from the hospital to Bobby's home in Sioux Falls and I can't stand driving for long periods of time. Too bad there's no other option since Bobby can't take over.

"Favorite color," Bobby says suddenly, glancing at me, and I start, my grasp on the wheel tightening for a moment.

"Huh?"

"Figure if we're stuck together for a couple of hours, I might as well get to know the strange kid from another reality." Bobby grins at my surprise. "Favorite color?"

"Toss-up between blue and silver." I shrug slightly.

"Favorite T.V. sh - oh, wait, never mind."

I laugh, knowing that I would have had to answer _Supernatural_. "Yeah, good call." The half-hearted interrogation goes on back and forth between the two of us - favorite books, favorite movies, favorite music genres, and so on - until we pull up the driveway to Singer's Salvage Yard. In that time, I learn that Bobby's favorite color is green and that he and Sam both like _Harry__ Potter_ just as much as I do, which to be fair is quite a lot.

It's a little complicated figuring out how to get Bobby up the three steps to the house, but we figure it out by having him lift himself up with his arms off the wheelchair while I wheel it up carefully, and having him settle down in it again when we complete each step. It takes a good five extra minutes, but we finally get him through the screen door and into the house.

The living room is just as I remember it from the show, dark and dusty and cluttered with piles of old books. Still, the house looks lived-in and has a warmth to it, and I wonder if all the hunters who come by Bobby's house feel the same way I do now: as if they're finally coming home after a long time. Between the two of us, we manage to set up the house for a handicapped person by the time the sun sets. Under Bobby's instruction, I make up a bed for him downstairs on the couch near the window and remove any furniture that would obstruct the wheelchair's path throughout the first floor of the house.

Finally, after we settle into the house and Bobby sends me off to unpack my backpack in the guest bedroom upstairs, I sit down on the bed and begin unpacking my bag. My cellphone and purse go on the nightstand and my textbooks go into the drawer while my backpack, now emptied, lies on the floor at the foot of the bed. The clothes Sam had gotten for me go into the closet. When I make my way downstairs at last, I hear Castiel's familiar gruff voice speaking quietly to Bobby, but they stop talking when I enter the kitchen.

I stop in my tracks. "Jeez, guys. Don't stop on my account. If you're talking about me, you might as well insult me to my face."

"We were not speaking ill of you," Castiel says with a frown. I shrug and sit down on one of the chairs at the table.

"So then what _were_ you talking about?"

"Feathers thinks you might be able to help him on his God-quest," Bobby explains.

"Me?" My eyebrows shoot up. "Why would _I_-?"

"Hell if I know," Bobby cuts me off.

"You possess some knowledge of angels, whether conscious or not," Castiel adds, "This may aid me on my search." His stony expression softens slightly, easing my nerves. "You aren't obligated to help me, if that's what you're afraid of."

"I'm not scared," I lie and ignore the pitying look Castiel gives me. I can't ignore his pitying words, though.

"You are, and you have reason to be. But the choice_ is_ yours, Ariel." He says my name strangely, pronouncing the _-el_ part with more emphasis rather than the first syllable. Must be an angel thing; Zachariah had said it the same way.

I look at Bobby, who simply shrugs as if to say "You're on your own," before returning my gaze to Castiel and nodding tentatively. I'm scared shitless, but if there's anything I can do to keep the Apocalypse from happening, more power to us, right? I turn back to Bobby. "Will you be okay here?"

"Sure." Bobby nods quickly. "I'll be fine, kid." He smiles and I nod before giving him a quick hug, wrapping my arms around his shoulders and squeezing lightly. He freezes for a moment before returning the embrace briefly and patting me on the back once. "All right, enough of this mushy stuff." He nudges me and I smile as I step back. In the next instant, Castiel's hand is on my shoulder and with a sound of rustling feathers, we're both no longer in Bobby's kitchen.

It's a strange feeling to be transported by an angel and I won't lie by saying that it's comfortable. It's not. It's weird and invasive and it makes my stomach twist almost painfully until my feet touch solid ground only seconds later. I stumble slightly and Castiel's hand, still on my shoulder, steadies me.

"Will you need a moment?" he offers after a moment of awkward silence as I struggle to regain my bearings. "Dean needed to sit after his first flight, too."

"That was flying?" I ask weakly as I sink onto a nearby bench. Castiel sits down beside me, nodding.

"I suspect your idea of flying and mine are different."

"Yeah, no kidding." I grin at last. "Does that mean you've got wings?"

Castiel shuffles uncomfortably. "Yes. I do not reveal them outside of Heaven." I can't help but stare at the back of his trenchcoat, trying to imagine the cool shadowy wings I had seen in the first episode of the fourth season bursting out of the tan material. "You cannot see them by squinting, Ariel."

"Oh." I flush when I realize he's watching me stare at him. "Sorry." He studies me for a few more moments before his lips turn upwards slightly at the corners, the first smile I've seen from him so far.

"You aren't like the Winchesters."

I snort and reply, "Nah, 'cause I'm a special little snowflake," using the term for people who feel entitled to things because of their problems. Because that's me in a nutshell: entitled to hang out with Castiel and the Winchesters and Bobby Singer because I've been shoved into this world from my own.

Castiel blinks at me, silent for a moment, before suddenly letting out a quiet but genuine chuckle, much to my surprise. "Oh, I see. It is because of the old saying. 'No two snowflakes are alike.'" He looks so pleased that he's figured it out on his own that I don't bother correcting him.

"Yeah, that's...exactly it, Cas." I bite back a laugh as I look around, finally taking in my surroundings. "Where are we?"

"A park."

Well, no shit, Sherlock, since there's a playground right in front of us. "No, I mean, why are we here? You expect to find God on the see-saw?"

Castiel gives me a startlingly accurate impression of Sam's bitchface. "It seems you are much more like Dean than I had realized."

I mock-gasp. "How dare you?! I'm far more adorable!"

Castiel's lips quirk once more in a faint smile as he gets to his feet, his sharp blue eyes scanning the area. "I sensed something powerful here," he answers at last in response to my question, "I believed..." He hesitates before shaking his head. "Perhaps I was mistaken."

I get up and look around, too, and catch a flash of gold briefly out of the corner of my eye. When I follow the flash, I see nothing except a young brunette woman pushing a baby carriage on the path and a man with a lollipop in his mouth leaning against a nearby tree. The latter strikes me as vaguely familiar and I frown in his direction, but all he does is raise an eyebrow at me expectantly, as if to say "What are you waiting for, kiddo?" The inner voice that says that sounds familiar, too, sarcastic and snarky.

"What about him?" I ask, looking back at Castiel to get his attention.

"Who are you referring to?" Castiel looks over my shoulder, bewildered.

"That guy, leaning on the tree, he-" I turn back around and the man is gone.

"Ariel?" Castiel asks, placing a hand on my shoulder. He sounds like he thinks I've gone insane, and I find it a little ironic that the supernatural creature, an _angel_, thinks I'm nuts.

"He was right there," I say stupidly, "Right against that tree. And he looked like he knew me."

"I believe you." Castiel obviously doesn't, but when I face him once more, his expression is pensive. I wrack my memory for any episodes I had seen with the mystery man in it, but already, my memory of his face is getting fuzzy. I smack my fist against the back of the wooden bench in frustration.

"I guess we should look somewhere else," I suggest, but Castiel still looks withdrawn, his eyebrows furrowed at the tree the stranger had been leaning on.

"Maybe." His head tilts suddenly and he looks as if he's tuning into some kind of internal radio.

"Angel news?" I ask, wondering what else it can be, and Castiel shakes his head.

"The Winchesters are calling. Dean is giving me their location." He concentrates as he places his hand on my shoulder and we're off again.

* * *

I stumble again, this time catching the edge of a wooden picnic table to steady myself.

"Never gets old, does it?" Dean snorts as he shifts over on the bench, allowing me to sit down. I scowl at him before seeing the blood-spattered ring in his hand.

"What's with the one ring to rule them all?"

Dean gives Sam a triumphant look - to which the younger Winchester simply rolls his eyes goodnaturedly - before answering, "It's from War. The Horseman." He looks up at Castiel. "We were hoping you knew what to do with it."

Castiel takes the ring from Dean, turning it over in his hand a few times before handing it back. "As long as War does not get his hands on it again, it's harmless. It might be best to keep it safe."

"Wouldn't it make sense to destroy it?" Sam suggests even as Dean pockets the ring and Castiel shakes his head.

"It can be reforged from the ashes it creates when destroyed. No, we are better off keeping it with us for security." Sam nods and Castiel gives me a slightly-apologetic look. "Would you be terribly insulted if I continued my search without you?"

"Nope, go right ahead," I tell him with a wry laugh, "I'm probably gonna be more of a burden, anyway."

"Your insight was helpful," Castiel insists, probably to avoid hurting my feelings, before looking back at Dean and Sam. "I'll be in touch." They barely have time to nod before he disappears. Once he does, Sam gets up and grabs his duffel bag from the Impala, shouldering it.

"Whoa, whoa, what's going on?" I glance between Dean's blank expression and Sam's sorrowful one. "Why're you two looking like someone died?"

"It's nothing," Sam reassures me quietly, "We're going our own ways for a little while."

"What? Why?" I can't wrap my head around it; Dean and Sam have always been together, never hunting apart unless they're separated by death.

"I'm just taking a step back from hunting." Sam looks up at Dean suddenly. "She could come with me."

"Sam-" Dean begins wearily, getting up from the table.

"Dean, if she's with you or Bobby, she's gonna be stuck in the middle of this mess. With me...I dunno. She could get a break from the craziness."

"I don't even know how to hunt," I add, "I'm only going to get in your way." After vacillating for a few moments, Dean finally nods and Sam squeezes my shoulder.

"C'mon, Air." He hesitates before meeting Dean's eyes. "Take care of yourself, Dean."

"You, too, Sammy." Dean stays where he is and watches us walk towards the abandoned car beside the Impala. Within a few moments, Sam had hotwired it - I realize soon after he begins that there's no point in scolding him, even though I feel horribly guilty - and we get inside. I wave to Dean from the passenger seat and he simply lifts his hand in return.

Sam's expression is drawn and exhausted, but I jump into the tale of how Castiel and I had attempted to search for God and ended up making fun of each other instead, and soon Sam's laughing harder than he had in all the time I've known him.

* * *

**I know the past few chapters have been essentially episode-recaps, and I tried to break away from that for this chapter, especially since I didn't want Ariel jumping straight into hunting where she WILL be killed because she's just a kid with no experience outside of the show.**

**Also, I like the idea of her and stoic, serious Castiel just bantering against each other. I hope you all realized who the mystery man was. If you didn't, I will be very disappointed. Still, all will be revealed soon.**

**Review or I'll send mopey!Sam complete with puppy eyes after you. He will cute-attack you into submission.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

* * *

**_Then:_  
**

_"I don't even know how to hunt," I add, "I'm only going to get in your way." After vacillating for a few moments, Dean finally nods and Sam squeezes my shoulder._

_"C'mon, Air." He hesitates before meeting Dean's eyes. "Take care of yourself, Dean."_

_"You, too, Sammy." Dean stays where he is and watches us walk towards the abandoned car beside the Impala. Within a few moments, Sam had hotwired it - I realize soon after he begins that there's no point in scolding him, even though I feel horribly guilty - and we get inside. I wave to Dean from the passenger seat and he simply lifts his hand in return._

_Sam's expression is drawn and exhausted, but I jump into the tale of how Castiel and I had attempted to search for God and ended up making fun of each other instead, and soon Sam's laughing harder than he had in all the time I've known him._

_**Now:**_

Sam and I settle into a small town named Garber, Oklahoma, after a day straight of driving. The first thing Sam does is get us some new cellphones and fake identities, something I take forever to get used to. Sam is now Keith Richardson and I'm Cindy Richardson, his younger sister. He snickers at my horrified face when he hands me my new driver's license, explaining that it only seemed fitting to give me another Disney princess's name and then promptly dodging the punch I throw at his arm.

Sam gets a job as a busboy at a local bar and I find a job at the bookstore next to it, taking inventory and handling purchases. We use most of our wages to pay for a few weeks in advance for the motel we're staying at, and we settle into a routine, something I had feared I would never get back to.

It's still got its weird moments, though, like when I catch Sam laying down a salt line every night. He shrugs at me when I give him a strange look the first night and simply says, "Just to be safe." I take his word for it and leave him to it.

Other times, I see Sam staring at the wall morosely, his chin in his hands and his expression miserable. When this happens, I do what any good friend would do and throw crumpled pieces of paper - complete with terrible doodles and caricatures - at him until he snaps out of it and bitchfaces at me.

I consider that to be a sign of success.

Every now and then, Bobby calls while I'm at the bookstore and informs me of current ongoings. He doesn't mention Dean during his updates, and I'm glad he doesn't. Honestly, I'm angry with Dean, at how he's pushed Sam away and turned his brother into a self-hating introvert, and I tell Bobby as such a week after we've set up our lives in Garber.

"_I ain't happy with Dean any more than you are_," he admits with a sigh, "_But, kid, you have to admit Sam screwed up, too_."

"But he's _sorry_," I huff as I stack children's books back on the shelves after the store closes. The children are incredibly messy, leaving picture books scattered all over the floor after they're done skimming through them. "It's not as if Sam doesn't regret what he did, he's practically killing himself with guilt every day."

I don't mention the nightmares; those are Sam's personal business. I hear him tossing and turning, murmuring half-consciously about burning and bright light and "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry" over and over. He wakes up with a strangled gasp after a few minutes of this and once in a while, I feel his fingers card through my hair shakily, as if he's confirming that I'm still alive.

If I pretend to be asleep and grab his hand to keep him from leaving my side, Sam doesn't call me out on it.

_"Look, maybe some time away from Dean will do him some good_," Bobby suggests, drawing me back to the conversation.

"It's time with me instead," I tell him dryly, "I'll be surprised if he's not in a straight-jacket by the time you and Dean see him again."

Bobby snorts. "_I'll agree with you there. Listen, I gotta go, I'm expecting a call from another hunter. Give Sam my best_."

"I will. Take care, Bobby." I hang up and go back to stacking the shelves. When my shift's over, I clock out and head next door to the bar, as I do every day. Thankfully, Sam's modified my age to twenty-one rather than eighteen on my fake driver's license, so I'm allowed in. My mom would have a heart-attack if she saw me now.

"Hey, Keith," I call as I enter the bar. Sam raises a hand in greeting, smiling, before going back to slicing lemons dutifully. I grab the barstool closest to him. "Kids are evil."

"Storytime?" Sam asks with a wry chuckle, wiping his forehead free of sweat.

"Storytime," I confirm before adding, "One of them tried to attack me with scissors. He claimed that if he cut off a finger, he could super-glue it back on." I shudder. "Three-year-olds should _not_ be that creepy."

Sam pauses in his lemon-slicing to give me a sympathetic pat to the shoulder before returning to work.

"Now you're just patronizing me," I scold him and he rolls his eyes at me goodnaturedly.

"You're gonna have to order something if you want to stay here, y'know." The bar is strict on not letting family and friends stick around, but within the week that we've been here, we've found out that they don't mind so long as I actually order drinks. Not feeling comfortable with alcohol, I stick with soda most of the time.

"Coke?" Sam obediently fetches me a glass of Coke and I pass him two dollars for it. With a grin, he accepts the money and then sticks one of the lemon wedges he's cut onto the rim of my glass. I stick my tongue out at him in return.

"You two are adorable," a waitress around Sam's age laughs as she passes us. Her nametag reads "Lindsey," and I see the way her eyes linger on Sam before she disappears into the back. Sam sees me raise my eyebrow and turns pink.

"Don't try too hard, Casanova," I tease him, propping my chin on my palm.

"Shut up." Sam reaches over the bar to take a half-hearted swing at me and I dodge it with a laugh before settling down to drink my Coke slowly and allowing Sam to get back to work. He finishes cutting lemons and moves on to cleaning the bar with a damp rag. He nudges my arms off the bar counter in order to wipe it down and catches my pensive expression. "Hey. What's on your mind?" I shrug wordlessly. "Don't give me that." He pokes my arm with a soap-covered finger. "What's up?" When I don't reply, he prompts, "Missing home?"

That's not quite it. Sam's not the only one having strange dreams, although I guess I can't classify mine as scary, just weird. The setting changes every time; one night, it's a simple black void, another, it's a beach, and another is the park Castiel and I had visited. Yet in each one, I see the man I had seen in the park, with his odd brown-gold hair and golden eyes. He stares at me silently and every time I ask his name, he doesn't respond, his lips curving upwards almost sadly as he watches me.

I can't tell Sam that, though, so I fiddle with the lemon wedge on my glass before nodding in response to his question. "A bit. Nothing I can't handle." Now that I think about it, I suppose I _do_ feel a little homesick. It's bizarre that I've settled into a domestic life in this strange _undomestic_ world, when back home, I have no idea what's happening. Do people miss me? Do they even know I'm gone?

Sam sighs and wipes his hands dry on another cloth before clasping my shoulder. "We'll get you home, Cindy." I almost forget that we're using fake names, but choose to ignore it in favor of placing my hand over his and squeezing his fingers gratefully.

"I know." He pats my shoulder before returning to wiping down the bar. My mood lifts when he tells me a story about an earlier customer who had stumbled in, already relatively drunk, and demanded more alcohol while rambling about pink elephants and pretty flowers. The story has me entertained for the next half-hour, at which point Sam takes off his apron and hangs it on a hook before timestamping his card.

"C'mon, let's go." He calls a goodbye to Lindsey and I tease him for it all the way back to the motel. He grabs me in a headlock until I plead mercy, laughing as he releases me and tugs me against his side with an arm around my shoulders.

"You make an okay big brother," I tell him, giggling, and he stops in his tracks, looking at me with something unreadable in his expression. For a moment, I'm worried I've offended him somehow.

Finally, he cracks a smile, even though he still looks like he's going to cry any second, and squeezes me closer. "Thanks."

* * *

Sam's nightmare that night is much worse than the previous few. He's shaking as he jolts out of bed and I hear him shut the bathroom door behind him. The sink faucet runs for a few minutes before shutting off. I turn over to face the door and shut my eyes, opening them slightly as the door opens. In the light of the bathroom, I can see Sam's face dripping with either water or tears, which he wipes on a handtowel near the bathroom door before shutting off the light and returning to bed. He sits down on the bed and stares at the wall for a long time. His shoulders tremble suddenly and he bows his head, dropping it into his hands.

Deciding it's time to make a move, I get out of my own bed and sit down next to him. Sam doesn't say a word, but silently wraps one arm around my shoulders, pulling me against his side.

I place my arms around his waist and murmur, "It's okay," which is a mistake, because that makes Sam shudder even more, tightening his grip on me as something warm and wet trickles down the back of my neck. Not wanting to see him cry, I press my face into his chest and hug him as hard as I can until his silent sobs cease. With a quiet sniffle, he pulls back to swipe his arm across his eyes.

"Thanks, Air," he says hoarsely and I nod into his chest. I had half-expected him to be made of rock, with all the muscle he has, but he's actually warm and comfortable. Without meaning to, I fall asleep against him.

I dream of the golden-eyed man again, this time in a place surrounded by soft clouds and shining lights. I vaguely wonder if it's Heaven, and I ask the man that. He nods silently._ "_Why don't you ever talk to me?_"_ I demand in frustration. The man pauses, hurt flashing across his face briefly, and then shrugs. It's the least robotic response I've gotten out of him, and my irritation abates just based on that. Sensing my relaxation, the man relaxes too, a smile tinged with sadness tugging at his lips.

I wake up in the morning with Sam half-curled around me, his cheek pillowed against the top of my head and his arms wrapped protectively around me. For the first time all week, he looks peaceful in his sleep, and I shamelessly snuggle closer and fall asleep again.

It doesn't stop Sam from kicking me out of bed an hour later to get ready for work, though. Jerk.

* * *

My shift at the bookstore runs late that night and I don't make it to the bar until the end of Sam's shift. By then, three men are already at a table, talking to Sam quietly.

"Keith?" I approach them warily and Sam gives me a strained smile.

"Don't worry, they're friends of Bobby's." I relax slightly, but still shuffle closer to Sam nervously as the hunters study me.

"She the kid Bobby mentioned?" one of them asks and Sam nods.

"She's not in the life, so I wouldn't recommend getting her to help on the hunt." He smiles wryly and the hunters look at each other, as if they're already judging the best way to kill me. I swallow and stand behind Sam's chair so that I can hide behind him easily.

"Well, anyway, we could really use all hands on deck here," the other hunter suggests and Sam shakes his head.

"I know you could. But I can't. I'm sorry."

"Why not?"

"It's personal." Sam's tone is sharp.

"Look, man, what baggage is so heavy it can't be stowed away for the freaking Apocalypse?" Sam tenses and I place a hand on the back of his shoulder lightly. He looks up at me before glancing back at the hunters.

"Like I said-"

"You're sorry, yeah. Heard you the first time." The other hunter sounds bitter.

"Suit yourself. More for us," his partner replies cheerfully.

The third hunter finally grins as well. "Yeah. Beers are on you when we get back."

Sam relaxes and smiles. "Good luck." The hunters get up and leave the bar and I allow myself to relax at last. Sam squeezes my hand as he gets up from the table. "Friends of Bobby's," he repeats to me quietly, "Those were Tim, Reggie, and Steve."

"They creep me out," I tell him honestly and he quirks a smile.

"Most hunters would do that."

"So your parents were drunk when they named you and you shoot Bambi?" Lindsey teases as she walks up to us and I roll my eyes, patting Sam on the shoulder.

"See you at home, Romeo." Sam shoves me lightly and I make my way out the door, laughing.

* * *

Halfway back to the motel, I receive a text from Sam.

_Dinner with Lindsey. Don't wait up._

Grinning, I type back a response.

_'Dinner?' Is that what they're calling it these days?_

He replies eloquently.

_Screw you._

I laugh and pocket my phone before ducking into a nearby diner to grab dinner for myself. I get a veggie burger and take it back to the motel room, where I eat it before calling Bobby to let him know that those three hunter friends of his are creepy as hell.

He snorts at my description. "_Kid, if every hunter was all sunshine and rainbows, I'd be even more creeped out. That's just how these guys are._"

"Still. They looked like they wanted to shoot me in the head just 'cause I knew about hunting, but wasn't a hunter myself."

"_Unfortunately, that ain't uncommon. Look, just hang tight. Soon as this case is done, they'll be gone and you and Sam can get your lives back on track. Okay?_" Reluctantly, I agree and we hang up.

I steal Sam's laptop to browse the Internet and read up on the news, which send me for a loop. I hadn't known about the fire hailing nearby, or the other signs of the freaking Apocalypse that are now staring me in the face. It sickens me to my stomach that Sam and I have just walked away from this, but I can't force Sam back into hunting. I know I'm certainly not ready to defend myself if it came down to that.

I place the laptop back into Sam's bag and straighten up when something heavy crashes into the back of my head. I drop like a sack of potatoes and everything grows dark.

* * *

My head is aching horribly, and that's the first thing that registers in my mind as I slowly wake up.

"Wha-?" A calloused hand slaps over my mouth and I scream against it, fully alert now as I struggle against whoever's holding me.

"Quiet, kid." I recognize that voice as one of the hunters who had talked to Sam earlier today. Reggie, maybe? A knife is pressed to my throat and I flinch, falling silent. The hands push me forward through a door and a bell chimes. We're at the bar, and I can see Sam standing near one of the tables, another of the hunters - Tim - in front of him. Lindsey is handcuffed to the bar and gagged, her eyes wide with horror.

Sam's hazel eyes flick to me and widen. "Ariel!" He takes a step forward, but Reggie - or whoever it is - presses the blade closer to my neck.

"Sam, what's happening?" I demand desperately as I struggle again, but the knife nicks my skin and a drop of blood trickles down my neck. I freeze.

"Just take it easy," Sam tries to negotiate with the hunters, his tone a little too calm, "Put the knife down." Reggie obeys, but still holds my shoulders in a bruising grip. "It's true," Sam says quietly at last, "What the demons said, it's all true."

"Keep going," Tim orders.

"Why?" Sam's eyes narrow as he turns his glare on Tim. "You gonna hate me any less? Am I gonna hate myself any less? What do you want?" Something in my chest twists at how broken he sounds.

"I want to hear you say it."

Sam looks at me once more before squaring his shoulders and admitting, "I did it. I started the Apocalypse."

"Sam-" I begin weakly, but Reggie covers my mouth again as Tim pulls out a glass tube full of red liquid. I recognize it after a moment as blood.

"What is that?" Sam is staring at it.

"What do you think it is? It's go juice, Sammy-boy." It's not just blood, I realize with growing horror. It's _demon_ blood.

"Get that away from me." Sam takes a step back, but bumps into the table behind him.

"Away from you? This is for you. Hell if that demon wasn't right as rain. Down the hatch, son." Tim takes a threatening step forward.

"You're insane." I have to agree there.

"Here's what's gonna happen. You're gonna drink this, Hulk out, and you're gonna waste every one of the demon scum that killed my best friend." That explains where the third hunter had gone. "Or they both die." Reggie's hand moves from my mouth to my throat and I realize that this guy could easily snap my neck if he chooses.

"You wouldn't do that," Sam says, not sounding convinced.

"It's funny how watching your best friend die changes that. Come on, you know you want it, Sam. Just reach out and take it." Suddenly, Tim charges Sam, who hasn't been expecting it, and throws him into the pool table. I scream, as does Lindsey through her gag, as Tim uncorks the tube and pours the demon blood into Sam's half-open mouth before holding it closed so that Sam can't spit it out.

Reggie's grasp on my throat tightens as I struggle even harder, and I see black spots across my vision. Still, I don't stop squirming and screaming for Sam, when suddenly the tight grasp on me is released. I collapse to the floor, gasping and rubbing at my now-bruised throat, as Sam charges past me, grabbing Reggie and slamming his head into the bar. Reggie collapses, unconscious, to the floor, while Tim scrambles up, his face covered in blood that isn't his own. Sam had spat out the demon blood into Tim's face.

The realization sends such relief through me that I sink back against the bar, allowing myself to gasp for breath as Sam takes Reggie's knife and holds it up to Tim's throat. He looks back at me and Lindsey, both of us probably pale with terror, and drops the knife, throwing Tim over to a stirring Reggie.

"Go." The hunters help each other up and stumble towards the door.

"Don't think we won't be back," Tim snarls over his shoulder.

"Don't think I won't be here," Sam says coldly in return. When the door finally closes behind them, Sam picks the lock on Lindsey's cuffs and ungags her. Shaking and wide-eyed, she looks between the two of us before bolting out the door.

"So much for your date, huh?" I rasp weakly and Sam smiles faintly as he kneels down beside me.

"Yeah, well." He doesn't offer more of a reason than that, choosing to check my throat and wincing in sympathy. "Looks like it hurts."

"I'm okay," I lie and he helps me to my feet, scanning me for any other injuries. When his examination's complete, he yanks me into the tightest hug I've ever received, pressing his face into my hair. It would be comical that he has to bend slightly to reach the top of my head, but I'm trembling so much that I don't care as I squeeze him back until my arms go numb from the pressure.

"I'm sorry," he mutters against the top of my head.

"Shut up," I retort tiredly; it's not his fault the hunters had turned on us. He strokes my hair gently and I lean into the touch, closing my eyes. "Can we please just go home now?"

He nods, even though I can't see it, and presses a kiss to the top of my head. "Yeah. Yeah, we can go home."

He holds me tightly against his side all the way back to the motel.

* * *

**So the epic story of Sam and Ariel's big adventure on their own is mostly over. Obviously, there's still a little more, which will overlap with the events of _The End_ in the next chapter.**

**It's difficult trying to branch out from the episodes, so if I do appear to be simply quoting the episode, warn me. I tend to be reading the transcript while I type these chapters.**

**Review, or Dean will not be a happy camper.**


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

* * *

_**Then:**_

_"I'm okay," I lie and he helps me to my feet, scanning me for any other injuries. When his examination's complete, he yanks me into the tightest hug I've ever received, pressing his face into my hair. It would be comical that he has to bend slightly to reach the top of my head, but I'm trembling so much that I don't care as I squeeze him back until my arms go numb from the pressure._

_"I'm sorry," he mutters against the top of my head._

_"Shut up," I retort tiredly; it's not his fault the hunters had turned on us. He strokes my hair gently and I lean into the touch, closing my eyes. "Can we please just go home now?"_

_He nods, even though I can't see it, and presses a kiss to the top of my head. "Yeah. Yeah, we can go home."_

_He holds me tightly against his side all the way back to the motel._

_**Now:**_

Sam wakes up with a loud gasp in the middle of the night, startling me awake.

"What is it, Sam?" I yawn, rubbing at my eyes, and he scrambles out of his bed, grasping my shoulders tightly.

"I think I just had a dream-visit from Satan."

That wakes me up faster than cold water to the face. "_What_?!"

"Lucifer. He was in my dream. He-" Sam's voice cracks. "He looked like Jess." I remember the name from the pilot of _Supernatural_ and feel a pang of sympathy for Sam. "Then he changed into some other guy, I think he said his name was Nick, and said it was just a temporary vessel till he could get to his true vessel. Me." Sam speaks so quickly that I barely catch what he's trying to say.

When I do, my eyes widen. "You're his vessel?" I suppose I shouldn't be surprised; I did see bits and pieces of the fifth season, but not enough to piece together the majority of the plot.

"Yeah." Sam's breathing hard, still shocked by the revelation, and I shift forward to hold his shoulders in return.

"You - you know you can't say 'yes,' right?"

"What?" Sam looks as if he's never even considered it. "Of course not! I would _never_, it's just..." The adrenaline seems to leave him and he slumps against the headboard beside me. "Holy crap."

"Yeah, tell me about it," I agree, exhausted as I lean against his side. "So what do we do?"

Sam bites his lip, thinking. "Maybe...maybe we should try talking to Dean." I agree; Dean's Michael's vessel, so it seems only logical that he and Sam team up against the archangels (well, one archangel and one _former_ archangel) trying to use them as meatsuits. Sam picks up his cellphone from the nightstand and dials Dean's number. It isn't long before I hear a click on the other end, signalling that Dean had picked up his phone.

The conversation doesn't last long, and I can only hear Sam's responses to whatever Dean's saying, but Sam sounds even more distressed by the time he closes the phone and shoves it away from him.

"Dean doesn't want to talk?" I venture tentatively and Sam shakes his head.

"Says we're better off apart." He swallows audibly, blinking rapidly and looking up at the ceiling, and I recognize them as signs of oncoming tears. I press myself against Sam's side, wrapping my arms around him tightly. He sniffs slightly and looks down at me, smiling a little despite the shining tears in his eyes. "Thanks."

"Yeah, whatever. Go back to sleep. We're leaving town in the morning, anyway, and you're the designated driver." He cracks a grin and wipes at his eyes before getting up to return to his own bed. When he lies down and closes his eyes, I get out of my bed and lean down to kiss his cheek. "'Night, Sam." Sam's lips twitch upwards weakly even though his eyes remain closed.

"'Night, Air." I return to my own bed, worried about what the future would bring now as I reluctantly drift back to sleep.

* * *

I dream about the man with the golden eyes again, this time in a field at the base of a mountain. In the face of Sam's current situation, though, instead of our usual staring competition, I lose my temper.

"Help us!" I yell at the man and he remains where he is, his hands in his pockets as his eyebrows shoot up in surprise. "I know you've got enough power to! It's the Apocalypse, and you won't do a damn thing!" Tears sting my eyes and stream down my cheeks. I'm frustrated, both at the stranger's lack of communication and at my own inability to do anything to help Sam or Dean or even Castiel. "What's the point of being brought here if I can't _do_ anything?" I demand to no one in particular.

Suddenly, the man moves forward and his arms wrap around me tightly. I bury my face into his shoulder, unable to do anything else, and cry helplessly.

"I'm sorry, kiddo," he says softly at last, and I'm stunned because it's the first time I've heard him speak. "You'll understand soon."

"Understand what?" I pull out of the embrace to frown at him, confused, and he merely gives me the same sad smile he's given me in every dream I've had about him before snapping his fingers.

* * *

I jolt awake and see Sam talking on the phone quietly as he sits on the edge of his bed. I sit up, yawning, and he smiles widely, mouthing "Dean" at me. Dean's calling? Why?

"Hang on, Ariel's awake. Here." He hands me the phone and I take it, putting it to my ear.

"Hello?"

"_Hey, Air_," Dean's voice greets me. He sounds much more subdued than the last time I had heard his voice. "_You doin' okay?_"

"I guess so. Just woke up." I stifle another yawn.

"_Yeah, I can hear that,_" Dean chuckles before sobering. "_D__id, uh...did Sam tell you what I said last night?_"

"Yeah."

Dean swears under his breath, but I still hear it. "_Look, I...I was wrong, okay? I want Sam back in, I want _both _of you back in. We're better together, I get that now. Sam's willing to meet up, but what about you_?"

"Me?" I ask stupidly. Once the words register, I'm about to tear Dean a new one and deny him outright after what he'd said last night, but seeing Sam's hopeful expression, I change my mind and answer, "Yeah, okay."

"_Good_." Dean sounds relieved. "_And another thing._"

"Yeah?"

"_Just, uh...don't ever_ _change._" With that strange last piece of advice, Dean ends the call. I hand the phone back to Sam, bewildered.

"The hell was that?"

"Does it matter?" Sam begins packing his duffel bag, looking less haggard than I had seen him in days. "Dean wants us back." He's positively beaming, so I don't argue. Sam deserves a little happiness after the mess of yesterday.

* * *

It doesn't take more than an hour to find Dean beneath a bridge at the edge of the state line of Oklahoma, and we approach him warily. Dean smiles tiredly and some tension leaves Sam's shoulders.

"Heya, Sammy." Dean pulls out Ruby's knife and holds it out handle-first. "If you're serious and you want back in...you should hang onto this. I'm sure you're rusty." Recalling the fight from last night, I highly doubt that. Sam takes the knife, not meeting Dean's eyes as he nods. "Look, man, I'm sorry. I don't know. I'm...whatever I need to be. But I was, uh...wrong."

"What made you change your mind?" Sam asks at last.

"Long story. The point is...maybe we are each other's Achilles Heel. Maybe they'll find a way to use us against each other, I don't know. I just know we're all we've got. More than that. We keep each other human."

"You totally rehearsed that, didn't you?" I tease and Dean takes a swing at me. I duck behind Sam, laughing.

"Thank you. Really. Thank you. I won't let you down," Sam says fervently even as he smiles at our bickering.

"Oh, I know it." Dean grins. "I mean, you are the second-best hunter on the planet."

"Modest, much?" Dean waves his fist at me again and I shut up, grinning from ear to ear.

"So, what do we do now?" Sam prompts.

"We make our own future." Dean's smile fades slightly as he claps Sam on the shoulder.

"Guess we have no other choice," Sam agrees quietly.

The levity of our situation is gone, but somehow, everything seems much less hopeless than it had before. It's a good feeling, and I hope it lasts.

* * *

We join Dean in the Impala once more and hole up in Concordia, Kansas, on the way back to Bobby's place for the night. While I'm in the motel room, Sam and Dean sit outside for a long time, quietly talking.

Dean's treated me strangely since he took me and Sam back. He looks at me as if he's genuinely happy that I'm there, which is weird, since Dean's wanted nothing more than to be rid of me since I got thrown into this mess. I know what's happened: Dean had been shoved into the future by Zachariah, and he had seen the post-Apocalyptic world of 2014. I know what had been in that future, but how would things have changed now that I've entered the picture?

I wait for the Winchesters to return while absently doodling on a piece of motel stationary paper. When Sam and Dean return to the motel room, Sam's eyes are slightly red and puffy, but he's smiling, and so is Dean. Sam heads for the bathroom to take a shower and Dean exhales wearily as he sinks onto the other bed. I watch him, my arms crossed.

"So, the future, huh?" Dean starts before looking at me.

"You saw the episode?" I nod. "Then I guess you know what I saw."

"I know what happened to everyone except me." I raise an eyebrow, waiting for him to answer my implied question.

"You-" His voice breaks suddenly and my other eyebrow goes up. What could have possibly happened to me? "When Sam said 'yes,' you were one of the first to die." Well, I certainly hadn't expected that.

"Oh," I say dumbly.

"Damn it, you're a kid," Dean says miserably, "You shouldn't have to be stuck in this."

"Well, I am now." I lift my hands slightly and drop them again helplessly. "And I don't seem to be doing much by way of helping."

Dean shakes his head. "You've been taking care of Sam while I was being a jerk." He reaches over to grasp my shoulder and squeeze it gratefully. "That's more than helpful."

I manage a tentative smile back. "Yeah, well. Someone ought to keep an eye on that pile of angst you call a brother."

Dean snorts and nods in agreement as Sam steps out of the bathroom, towelling his hair dry. "What'd I miss?" the younger Winchester asks when we both start laughing at him.

"Nothing," I dismiss, but Dean catches sight of the doodles I'd left on the table.

"Hey, what're these?" He picks up the paper, squinting, before his eyes widen suddenly. "Sam, he look familiar to you?" He turns the paper to Sam, who takes it and frowns at it.

"Yeah." He looks up at me sharply. "Ariel, have you met this guy before?" I struggle to remember what I'd been absently doodling and then it hits me: the mystery guy.

"I've kind of been dreaming about him," I admit at last. "He doesn't say anything, usually, just lets me talk at him and answers 'yes or no' questions." When the Winchesters look concerned, I ask, "Why? Who is he?"

"The Trickster," Sam says quietly at last, handing the paper back to me, and as I stare at my own drawings of the mystery man's face, it finally clicks where I'd seen him before: I had seen him in _Mystery Spot _and _Tall Tales_, previous episodes of _Supernatural_. I feel like an idiot for not seeing it before.

"But why would he be dream-visiting _me_?" I demand, bewildered.

"Hell if I know." Dean shrugs, looking at Sam, who looks just as lost as I probably do. "I still want that dick's head on a stake for _Mystery Spot_."

"But you don't even remember most of your deaths," I point out.

"I do," Sam reminds me with a grimace, "And trust me, I'm not too fond of the guy, either." His face lights up suddenly. "What if we ask him to help us?"

"_What_?" Dean says sharply, his eyebrows shooting up.

"No, no, hear me out. He's the most powerful creature we've met. What if we can get him on our side?" Sam's excited now as his idea comes together, and he looks at me for support.

I shrug. "Wouldn't hurt to ask. Unless he gets offended and tries to kill us, I guess."

Dean huffs. "Well, how are we supposed to find him, anyway? We haven't seen or heard any sign from him since _Mystery Spot_, anyway."

"Ariel's dreams. She could talk to him there, ask him for help," Sam suggests and I nod.

"It's worth a try." Still unconvinced, Dean glances between us before sighing.

"It's worth a try," he echoes and Sam smiles. I just feel relieved that we have a plan.

* * *

**Chapter titles are a pain. Is it too much trouble to _stay_ underlined once I click "save?" Bloody hell.**

**That aside, this chapter is shorter than the others because quite frankly, there isn't much Sam and Ariel do in _The End_ and I wanted this episode done in one chapter before moving on to the next one. I feel like each chapter's sort of winding down in quality at the moment. Derp.**

**Review before a grumpy Bobby calls you an "idjit."**


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

* * *

_**Then:**_

_Dean huffs. "Well, how are we supposed to find him, anyway? We haven't seen or heard any sign from him since Mystery Spot, anyway."_

_"Ariel's dreams. She could talk to him there, ask him for help," Sam suggests and I nod._

_"It's worth a try." Still unconvinced, Dean glances between us before sighing._

_"It's worth a try," he echoes and Sam smiles. I just feel relieved that we have a plan._

_**Now:**_

I'm left at Bobby's house the next day when Dean and Sam catch a case involving James Dean's car, the infamous Little Bastard. Dean's positively fangirling as he and Sam load the Impala and I roll my eyes at their backs.

"Boys and their cars."

"Says the girl who fangirled over the Impala," Sam teases me lightly, giving me a grin over his shoulder as he loads his duffel bag into the trunk.

"Hey, if the kid wants to gush over my baby, she can," Dean cuts in, affronted, and I laugh because no matter what he says, he's defending his car, not me. Finally, when they're done and about to leave, Sam turns and envelops me in a tight hug. I squeeze him back, shutting my eyes and burying my face into his shoulder. It's the first time I'll be away from him in more than a week, and I've grown attached to him.

"Take care of yourself," he murmurs against my hair and I nod into his shoulder.

"You, too, Sam." He ruffles my hair affectionately when he releases me. To Dean's surprise, I hug him, too. "Don't be a dick."

"Well, that's heart-warming," Dean deadpans as he pats my back awkwardly. "Don't shoot yourself in the foot." He's referring to the fact that Bobby plans to start training me to use weapons while they're gone.

"Bite me." With a chuckle, Dean squeezes my shoulder one last time before he and Sam get into the Impala. I wave until the car's out of sight before heading back into Bobby's house.

* * *

"Are you _trying_ to shoot yourself in the foot?" Bobby snaps irritably at me as I fumble with the shotgun. It's heavy, and I can't hold it up for long. "Aim it right or don't aim it at all!"

I huff and drop the shotgun onto the pile of weapons on the table Bobby had had me set up at the beginning of the training session in the backyard of the house. "It's _heavy_. I can't hold it."

Bobby studies me critically for a moment before wheeling over to the table and searching through the pile of guns. "Here." He pulls out a handgun. "You load it like this." He slides out the cartridge and loads it, clicking the cartridge back into place before turning off the safety and handing it to me. "Blow out the red Honda's windshield." I aim at the car in question, relieved that the pistol is lighter than the shotgun, and pull the trigger. The resulting bang startles me, but the glass shatters and Bobby looks proud, so I try to cover up my fear even as I come to the firm conclusion that I hate guns. "Take it apart and put it back together." He holds up a stopwatch and I raise an eyebrow.

"Seriously?"

"You never know when you'll have to dismantle someone else's gun out in the field." He clicks the stopwatch and I scramble to take apart the gun after turning on the safety. It's putting it back together that I struggle with and eventually, Bobby gives up on me once I pass the two-minute mark. He takes the gun and puts it back together himself before tossing it at me. "Well, at least we know you're no good with firearms now." I snort; I think we'd figured that out the instant Bobby had first handed me the shotgun and I'd freaked out. "What about your lore?"

"The show taught me most of the stuff," I admit.

"Goofer dust?" Bobby tests.

"Uhh...keeps away hellhounds, right?" He nods approvingly and I relax.

"What else deals with hellhounds?"

"Devil's shoestring. Bela Talbot had it in her motel room when the hellhound came for her," I remember.

"What kills werewolves?"

"Um." I wrack my brain, but all I can think of is Remus Lupin from _Harry Potter, _which then leads to my internal gross sobbing over the fact that Rowling had killed him and Tonks off.

"Lupin?" Bobby sighs and I nod guiltily. At least there's another Potter-nerd around to understand my suffering. "Werewolf is a silver bullet to the heart."

"Oh."

"What about tricksters?" He raises an eyebrow expectantly and I roll my eyes when I catch on.

"They _told_ you?"

"Kid, whatever the Trickster wants with you, it can't be good. You know what happened to Dean, and that was just 'cause he and Sam pissed the Trickster off. It's playing with fire, dealing with him."

I throw my hands in the air helplessly. "I didn't _ask_ him to start popping into my dreams!" Which, surprisingly, hasn't been happening recently, and I add as such. "I mean, ever since I told Sam and Dean about him, he just disappeared."

"Well, maybe that's for the best." Bobby nods conclusively and that's that as he orders gruffly, "Grab those darts and set up the target."

* * *

Over the next few days, we discover that my aim with guns sucks, but I've got a knack for memorizing lore and, surprisingly, throwing sharp and pointy objects. I'm okay with knives and darts, able to throw them from a distance and at least hit the target on the first try. On the fourth day of training, I finally hit a bulls-eye, much to Bobby's relief and pride, and Dean calls with an update. He and Sam had finished up the case with Little Bastard - turned out they had had to kill Paris Hilton, from what I gather from the bizarre and brief recount of the tale, and I don't bother asking for clarification - and now they've stumbled upon another job, this time involving a woman who had scratched the back of her own head out.

"Not sure whether that's an 'ow' or an 'ew,'" I say to the cordless phone lying on the kitchen table. Dean is on speakerphone as Bobby pores over a book in the study, having already spoken to Dean and informed him of my training progress.

"_Go for a mix of both_," Dean suggests with a wry chuckle. "_Anyway, we're gonna go check it out. Probably won't be back till this case is over_."_  
_

"Okay." I try not to sound disappointed, but I do miss them both, angst-ridden as they are.

_"You're giving the phone puppy-eyes, aren't you_?" Dean sighs.

"Shamelessly," I admit.

"_Come on, Air, we'll be back before you know it. Most of these cases don't last longer than a couple of days. Oh, hey, Sam's here. Hang on, I'll put you on speaker_."

There's a little fumbling before Sam's voice takes Dean's place.

"_Ariel_?"

I try not to notice how tired Sam sounds and wonder if he's been having more nightmares. "Hi, Sam."

"_Hey_!" He immediately perks up at the sound of my voice and I can imagine him smiling on the other end of the line. "_How're you doing_?"

"Okay, I guess. Found out I'm good with sharp, pointy objects."

"_Knives? Huh. Wouldn't've pegged you for that_." Sam sounds impressed, though, and I feel even prouder of my accomplishment. "_Any luck getting a hold of the Trickster_?"

"None at all. It's like he's just vanished." It's weird, but I kind of miss the Trickster's presence in my dreams. All cruel pranks on the Winchesters aside, he had at least been a good listener while I rambled on about the crazy situation I'd found myself in.

"_We're keeping a look out for any cases that sound like his M.O., anyway. We're bound to run into him eventually_." Sam hesitates as Dean calls something to him from far away. "_Listen, Air, we've gotta go. Take care, okay? Give Bobby our best_."

"Okay. You and Dean be careful." Sam pauses as he listens to Dean's response, and then chuckles.

"_Dean says to quit mothering us._"

"You guys are jerks." As Sam laughs, I hang up, still smiling as I go to join Bobby in the study so that he can quiz me in lore.

* * *

It's another three days before Dean calls again. They've finished up this case, too, and I'm surprised to hear that it had been the Antichrist.

"_He's a good kid_," Dean insists when I express said shock, "_His name's Jesse, and the only reason he'd gotten those powers was 'cause his mom had been possessed by a demon when she'd gotten pregnant with him. He's in Australia now, lying low_."

"Aren't you a little worried that the Antichrist is loose in Australia?" I demand.

"_Not really._" Dean sounds unimpressed. "_Air, Jesse's fine and he's in control. 'Sides, I don't think we can find him if he doesn't want us to_." Conceding that, I let it go.

"Hey, you boys still in Alliance?" Bobby asks from beside me.

"_Yeah, why_?"

"Think I've got a case for you in Alpine, Utah. Should be only a few hours away." Bobby hands me a sheet of paper, since I'm closer to the phone.

"'A twenty-five-year-old man dead in his home due to _old age_?'" I read skeptically. "Dude, that's fucked up." Bobby whacks me lightly on the head. "Ow, sorry! Won't swear again!"

Dean snickers even as he admits, "_That might be up our alley. Sam and I'll check it out. Thanks, Bobby. Air, keep out of trouble_."

"Don't I always?" Dean snorts as he hangs up and I'm mildly insulted.

* * *

Dean's second phone call, which confirms that there is indeed a case in Alpine, Utah, puts Bobby in an inexplicably terrible mood.

"What's up with you?" I ask as I stir a pot of tomato soup meant to be our lunch - one of the few things I can make simply by reading the instructions on the can - when I see him wheeling into the kitchen. I've already toasted some grilled cheese sandwiches and placed them on the table, one of which Bobby picks up and starts eating.

"Nothing," he grumbles.

"Hey, you eat my cooking, you share what's eating you." I frown at him.

"I don't recall that being one of our rules."

"Okay, so I made it up right now."

"Drop it, kid." Bobby scowls at me. "It's still my house." I huff and obediently fall silent as I ladle soup into two bowls. I place one in front of Bobby, who accepts it grudgingly.

"Sorry," I mumble - damn my inability to have people angry with me - and as I turn away to grab my own bowl of soup, Bobby catches my hand and squeezes it briefly. While my worry doesn't dissipate, the gesture's comforting, and the tension between us eases.

* * *

Said tension makes a quick comeback when Dean calls later that evening.

"Supposedly, this player's a hell of a card shark. Got a lot of years in the bank. You find the bar he's working in yet?" I hear as I walk into the study. Bobby's got the phone cradled against his shoulder while he thumbs through a dusty book. He waits for Dean's response. "Well, why're you still talking to me?" He hangs up abruptly before closing the book and wheeling past me wordlessly, grabbing his keys off a pile of books as he goes.

"Wait, where are you going?" I demand, following him.

"To get those idjits out of the tight spot they're obviously gonna end up in."

"Well, I'm coming, too."

Bobby snorts. "'Course you are. You're the only one of us who can drive." He tosses me the keys. "Guess that makes this your first hunt."

I'm not sure whether to feel excited or terrified at the thought. "Awesome," I say, feeling like it's anything but, and follow him out of the house.

* * *

It's nearly dusk when we finally enter Alpine, Utah, but we'd made better time than I thought. Bobby orders me to drop him off near the first bar we see.

"I'll meet up with you at the boys' motel."

I hesitate. "You sure?"

Bobby levels me with a glare. "Look, kid, just 'cause I'm in a wheelchair, doesn't make me helpless." I choose not to tell him that it kind of does, but he reads it in my face. Surprisingly, his expression softens. "I get that you're worried. Don't be. I'll call you in about an hour, and I'll be fine." He squeezes my hand. "Okay?"

Grimacing, I nod and park the truck in front of the bar. I unfold the wheelchair next to the passenger seat for Bobby and he shifts into it.

"I got it from here." He pats my arm reassuringly and wheels inside the bar. With a weary sigh, I get back into the truck and head for the motel I know Sam and Dean are staying at. Thankfully, I don't have to ask around for their room number, because as I pull up to the parking lot, Sam is leaving the motel room.

"Sam!" I wave wildly and the taller man spins around so quickly that I'm scared he'll get whiplash.

"Ariel?!" He looks shocked, but his surprise quickly morphs into happiness as I tackle him in a hug. He laughs as he squeezes my shoulders, holding me tightly. It's only been a little more than a week since I've last seen him, but it's felt like forever to me. "What are you doing here? I thought you were at Bobby's," he says as he pulls out of the embrace at last, confused.

"I was, but Bobby had me drive him into town to help you two with the case," I reply, "I'm still a little confused on the details myself."

"Well, Dean and I split up a little while back to check different bars for the witch we think is behind this, but I couldn't find anything." Sam's phone buzzes in his pocket and he pulls it out. "'With Bobby. Get food. Remember the pie,'" he reads and rolls his eyes. "When have I ever forgotten the pie?"

I shrug. "I dunno, but in a future episode of the show, you give him cake and call it the same thing." To be fair, that's in the seventh season of _Supernatural_ and I only know that through Tumblr and Piper, but details.

"Isn't it?" Sam looks genuinely bewildered and I shake my head.

"No, and to save your dignity, I won't tell Dean you just said that." I pat his shoulder comfortingly as he shakes his head long-sufferingly.

"All right, let's go get food for the bottomless pit I call a brother." I laugh as he slings an arm over my shoulder and leads me away.

* * *

On the way to the diner and back, Sam tries to get more details about the show out of me and I try not to give too much away, which is easy because I haven't seen most of the episodes beyond the end of the fourth season. I can tell Sam is frustrated with my lack of answers, though, and apologize wearily.

"Nah, don't be." He shifts the takeout tray in his hands and I take the cups of soda from him to lighten the load. "It's just...y'know, whatever advantage we've got-"

"I know. Sorry I can't be much more help." He nudges my shoulder lightly as we reach the motel room parking lot again.

"Don't worry about it. We figured it out in the show and we'll figure it out now." I nod and Sam unlocks the motel room door with one hand, opening the door and pushing his way in.

"Hey, Dean? You find anything?" he calls into the room as he sets the tray down on the table and I start when a raspy voice replies.

"Uhh, you might say that." That sounds nothing like Dean. Sam pulls out his gun as an old man in a bathrobe comes out of the bathroom.

"Who're you?!"

"Dude, relax, it's me." Realization seems to dawn on Sam.

"_Dean_?"

The old man looks sheepish. "Hi."

"Wait, you can't be Dean. You're, like, seventy years old," I say dumbly.

"Eighty," Dean grumbles and it sounds so much like him suddenly that I'm surprised I didn't catch the resemblance sooner.

"What the hell happened?" Sam demands.

"I, you know...found the game." Dean beelines for the table and grabs a burger.

"I thought you said you were good at poker," Sam persists.

"I am, shut up!" I snort at Dean's grumpiness as he gestures to the gun Sam's still holding. "So you were just gonna shoot some old guy? Is that it?" Chastised, Sam tucks away the gun.

"I didn't know what you were. I mean, have you seen you? You look like-"

"The old chick in _Titanic_?" Dean interrupts irritably.

"I was going to say the crypt-keeper," I giggle. Dean glowers at me as he takes a bite of the burger.

"Nah, more like Emperor Palpatine," Sam corrects me with a snicker of his own and Dean glares at him next.

"You two finished pokin' fun?"

The door opens and Bobby wheels in. "I see you've met John McCain," he deadpans and I start laughing at the frustration on Dean's face.

Even Sam's biting back a grin, but he calms down long enough to ask, "Either of you want to tell me what happened?"

"Bobby's an idiot. That's what happened," Dean says angrily.

"Hey, nobody asked you to play," Bobby retorts.

"Right. I should have just let you die."

"And for damn sure, nobody asked you to lose!"

Sam grins. "It's like _Grumpy Old Men_."

"Shut up, Sam!" both Bobby and Dean snap in unison.

Slowly, I piece the situation together. "Wait, so...Bobby, you played the game?" I turn to Bobby, who has the decency to look abashed as he nods. "And you lost, so Dean played the game and _he_ lost?" I quickly turn to Sam. "Dude, don't play the game next, I'm sensing a trend here." Sam holds up his hands in surrender.

"What the hell were you thinking?" Dean rounds on Bobby once more. "He's a witch. He's been playing poker since guys wore tights."

"You just don't get it." Bobby sounds bitter.

"Yes, we do. You saw a chance to turn the hands of the clock back and get out of that chair," I cut in. Bobby glares at me and I realize I've hit the nail on the head.

"Piss off, kid. You can't imagine-"

"You got us," Dean adds, "We've never been paralyzed. But I'll tell you something - I've been to hell, and there's an archangel there wanting me to drop the soap. Look at me! My junk's rustier than yours! You hear me bellyaching? Huh?"

"Actually, we kind of do," I point out.

"Whose side are you on?!" Dean demands and Sam bites back another grin. Suddenly, Dean's expression shifts from irritation to pain. "Oh! I think I'm having a heart attack!" He sinks into a chair and briefly, my own heart clenches with worry. Sam looks just as concerned.

Bobby, however, doesn't seem to give a damn. "No, you're not. It's acid reflux. Guys your age can't digest certain foods." He gives a pointed look to the burger Dean's still holding and I mentally smack myself for not catching it sooner. "You're gonna wanna put that cheeseburger down." Dean grudgingly drops the burger back onto the takeout tray. "So you want to keep emoting, or you want to talk about solving this little issue of yours? It's got to be about the chips."

Dean explains, "I slid 'em across, Patrick did his little witchy number, and you prettied up in a hurry."

"So they're magic chips," I confirm.

"Definitely." Dean nods.

"You remember what he chanted?" Sam sits down across from Dean and Bobby nods.

"Every word." He turns to me. "What's our next move, then, Ariel?"

I start. "Me?"

"It's your first hunt," Sam agrees, grinning at my confusion. "It's good practice for you."

"Uhh. I guess we find where his chips are stashed?" Bobby and Sam nod approvingly and I relax.

"And steal me fifty," Dean adds, "Benjamin Button me back into burger shape. What do you think?"

Grinning, I tell him, "I think you ought to put some clothes on." Bobby and Sam vehemently agree and Dean grudgingly goes to do so.

* * *

**Does anyone else love _The Curious Case of Dean Winchester_ as much as I do? It's just so fun to watch Dean and Bobby bicker. And I never realized how much I loved writing Bobby until this chapter, despite how out-of-character I feel I'm writing him.**

**Also, does anyone else wonder how exactly Bobby got to the city this episode took place in from his house if he couldn't drive? Hmm...**

**If this entire chapter feels half-assed, it's because I was writing most of it while listening to Nick Pitera's Les Miserables medley on repeat, so I was sort of distracted the entire time.**

**Reviews are everyone's best friends. Send them.**


	9. Chapter 9

******Chapter 9**

* * *

_**Then:**_

_"It's your first hunt," Sam agrees, grinning at my confusion. "It's good practice for you."_

_"Uhh. I guess we find where his chips are stashed?" Bobby and Sam nod approvingly and I relax._

_"And steal me fifty," Dean adds, "Benjamin Button me back into burger shape. What do you think?"_

_Grinning, I tell him, "I think you ought to put some clothes on." Bobby and Sam vehemently agree and Dean grudgingly goes to do so._

_**Now:**_

"Do we normally let housekeeping in?" I ask as I peer out the window.

"Not really, why?" Sam frowns at me just as someone knocks on the door. Dean reaches it first and I throw a triumphant look at Sam when a maid is on the other side, carrying an armful of towels.

"Ready for housekeeping, sir?"

"Born ready," Dean replies with a cheeky grin and the maid simply laughs.

"You're just like my grandfather." Dean's grin fades. "He hits on anything that moves, too." She walks past him into the room. "You're adorable."

"And dangerous," Dean insists, trying to salvage his dignity.

"Aww," the maid giggles as she walks into the bathroom. Dean sulks as Sam and Bobby smirk. I'm laughing too hard to even try to hide it. Dean whacks me lightly on the head in retribution.

"Can we just go?" he grumbles.

* * *

Sam takes over driving Bobby's truck from then on, and we're now parked across the street from the bar where Dean and Bobby had played poker against the witch named Patrick. Which reminds me...

"Hey, why is a male witch called a 'witch?' Shouldn't he be, like, a warlock or a wizard?"

"Nah, totally different thing." Dean shakes his head. "It can go either way."

"There's different hierarchies," Bobby adds, "Warlocks are generally more powerful than witches."

"So essentially, gender roles have been switched because of this typecasting and people expect every 'witch' to be female when in reality, they can be male, too," I summarize and Dean looks at me oddly. "Shut up, I took AP Psych in senior year." I flush.

"Shh," Sam shushes our debate, staring at the bar, which a tall, dark-haired man is leaving. The man glances at his watch and crosses the street, not looking as a car smashes headlong into him. A noise somewhere between a gasp and a shriek leaves my throat and Dean, surprisingly, is the first to react, drawing me against his side and allowing me to bury my face into his shoulder so that I won't have to look.

"Hey, it's okay," he murmurs to me before suddenly chuckling wryly. "Look." I look up warily and see the man who had been hit driving away in another sleek car. "Gotta say, I like that guy's style," Dean laughs.

"I'm guessing that's Patrick?" I ask wearily, my shock waning slowly.

"Yep." Sam starts the truck and we tail Patrick through the city. We stop at an apartment building that looks more like a skyscraper.

"One of us is gonna have to find his apartment," Bobby says as we watch Patrick leave his car and go inside.

"He knows what Bobby and I look like," Dean adds.

"And I stick out like a sore thumb," Sam points out.

"No kidding, Gigantor," Dean snarks and Sam bitchfaces at him before turning to me.

"That leaves you, Air. Think you can follow him?" Uneasily, I nod even as I get out of the truck. Dean gives me a thumbs-up, which does nothing for my nerves, and I close the truck door before entering the apartment building. I break out into a jog when I see the elevator door sliding shut, Patrick inside.

"Hold the elevator?!" I call, trying not to sound too nervous, and Patrick places a hand on the elevator door, stopping it from closing. I duck inside, relieved, and lean against the wall to catch my breath after pressing a random floor's button. "Thanks."

"No problem." Patrick has an Irish accent, and I bet that if Piper were here, she'd be having a fangirling frenzy. She has a thing for European accents.

The witch's eyes are locked on me the entire time I'm in the elevator and I swallow, trying not to appear too terrified. I'm in an elevator with a witch. A very _powerful_ witch who had aged Dean fifty years in a game of poker. Who could probably snap my neck with a snap of his fingers, should he choose.

Crap.

Patrick smiles politely at me, taking the toothpick in his mouth out. "Problem, sweetheart? You seem a little jittery."

What's with everyone calling me petnames? "No, not at all. Just, uh...internship interview." I shrug, trying to play it off. After all, it's half-true; my mom had been nagging me to apply for summer internships for a while. "I just got back now. Guess I'm not over the nerves yet."

"Ahh, that'll happen." Patrick nods. "Don't worry 'bout it. You seem smart, you'll get the job."

I manage a weak smile. "Thanks."

Much to my relief, the elevator stops and Patrick gets out with a tossed "Cheers" over his shoulder at me. I don't move, trying not to appear interested in his location, but note that we've stopped on the seventh floor. I subtly press the 'Open Doors' button to keep it open until I see Patrick open his apartment door: the first on the right. Finally, I reach the ninth floor, the button I had accidentally pressed, and choose not to get out, pressing the first floor again. I reach the lobby and book it back across the street to the truck.

"You look like you've seen a ghost instead of a witch," Sam teases as I climb into the backseat.

"Not funny," I scold him, "He's on the seventh floor, number 3701."

"Awesome. Guess we camp out here till he comes back out and then we can look for those chips." Dean nods conclusively and leans back in his seat. Sam and Bobby keep an eye on the door of the building while I do a bit of both: I keep one eye open for Patrick while relaxing against the backseat. My heart's still hammering away in my chest loudly, a result of my terror at having been near a witch.

If I'm this scared of a witch, how will I react when faced with Lucifer himself? I suppress a shudder and try not to think about it.

* * *

It's not more than an hour of waiting before Patrick leaves the building, getting in his car and driving away. The instant he's out of sight, we mobilize, setting up Bobby's wheelchair and getting Dean up - he'd fallen asleep while waiting - before heading inside the apartment building.

"Seriously?" I groan when we see the "ELEVATOR OUT OF ORDER SORRY FOR THE INCONVENIENCE" paper sign posted on the elevator doors. "It was fine an hour ago!"

"Well, I'm out," Bobby sighs. Leaving him behind, Sam, Dean, and I take the stairs.

By the second floor, Dean's gasping for breath and Sam pointedly glances at the floor sign. Huffing determinedly, Dean trudges along behind us. I climb the stairs a little slower than Sam, too, whose longer legs allow him to take two at a time. When we finally reach the seventh floor, I wait patiently for Dean while Sam goes ahead and starts picking the lock of apartment 3701.

"Need some help?" I ask, seeing that Dean's struggling for breath, and he glowers at me. "Okay, jeez. Touchy." I hover near his shoulder as we follow Sam into the apartment, anyway, just to make sure.

"Split up," Sam suggests, glancing around the neatly-organized and large apartment, and we get to work.

I'm searching through a nearby cabinet when Dean calls, "Hey!" Sam and I stop searching and join him. "Dime-store model." Dean taps on the safe he's uncovered. "Piece of cake." He squints at the dial and we realize the problem: his vision's too bad for him to read the numbers.

Sam sighs. "It's like _Mission: Pathetic_. Watch out." He pushes Dean aside and turns the dial quickly, opening it to reveal piles of poker chips inside.

Dean sulks as he moves to stand next to me. "I could have done that." Sam rolls his eyes and takes a handful of chips.

"What are you doing?" We all turn sharply to see a pretty young woman standing behind us, looking angry. She has a silver locket around her neck.

"Aren't you the chick from the bar?" Dean demands.

"I'm a lot more than that." She lifts her hand and clenches it into a fist, causing Dean to gasp and drop to his knees.

"Dean!" I grab his shoulders, startled, and suddenly, the spell lifts.

"It's all right, sweetheart, it's all right. They're harmless." I look up from helping Dean to his feet to see Patrick holding the woman's arm. "You boys want chips?" The witch grins. "Take 'em. They're just chips, Einsteins. It's showmanship. This may come as a shock, but the magic does not lie in a pile of crappy plywood or in any phony abracadabra. It's in the nine-hundred-year-old witch." Patrick looks at me then. "You really thought you'd fooled me? Sweetheart, no one comes home from an internship interview in a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt."

I look down at my clothes and facepalm.

"Nah, don't worry 'bout it, I thought it was cute." He grins at my embarrassment. "First time on the job?"

"Is it _that_ obvious?" I grimace.

"Good thing you're dealing with me and not a wild spirit, then." Patrick turns back to Sam and Dean. "You boys want years? Score 'em the old-fashioned way. Texas hold 'em."

Dean nods. "Fine. Let's do it."

Patrick smirks as he fiddles with the toothpick in his mouth and pulls out a card from his pocket. It's the eight of hearts. "What card am I holding up?" Dean squints at the card and we've got his answer. "That's what I thought. If your eyesight's that bad, what about your memory? I'm not a murderer. You, on the other hand..." Patrick looks at Sam and Dean and I round on the younger Winchester immediately.

"No, Sam." We glance at each other, thrown by the unison, and Sam blinks at us, bewildered.

"Don't be stupid, I could-"

"What? Sam not much of a player?" Patrick tilts his head. "I'd make an offer to Ariel, but she's under the gambling age."

I don't bother asking how he knows my name and my age. Weirder things have happened.

"Okay." Patrick claps his hands together. "Well, happy trails, Dean. Enjoy the twilight of your life. Should've taken better care of that ticker, though." He heads for the door and opens it, gesturing to the hallway. "You're free to go."

Dean takes the hint first and heads for the door, Sam and me following.

"Oh, and Sam?" We turn back to Patrick once we're in the hallway. "Now Dean's situation is punishment enough, and of course, the little lady's only here because you two are. But I can't let you leave without a small parting gift." He claps his hands slowly three times and then smirks at us.

"What are you doing?" Sam looks confused.

"You'll find out soon enough." Piecing together the slow-clap and the grin on Patrick's face, I start laughing.

"Wha-? Ariel!" Sam rounds on me, his eyebrows raised, and Dean only blinks at me.

"He...!" I control my laughter long enough to say, "He gave you the _clap_!" I descend into laughter once more as Patrick winks at me cheekily before shutting the door after us. Dean starts to grin and Sam huffs.

"Let's just get out of here." He looks distinctly uncomfortable by the time we reach the first floor again, scratching at the insides of his thighs, and I'm beyond help as I lean against Dean, laughing hysterically. Dean's grinning shamelessly, too, and Sam glares at us. "You guys suck."

"No regrets!" I giggle breathlessly.

* * *

It's only when we're halfway up the incline back to the motel when I realize the problem.

"Oh, crap." I turn around to see Bobby struggling to wheel himself up the incline.

"Little help here?" he asks plaintively. Thankful for my summer volunteer hours at the Princeton Hospital, I double back and wheel him up the incline.

"You know, I still think I should play," Sam says when Bobby and I catch up to him and Dean at the top of the incline.

"No, no, no. You're not good enough. I'm better. Bobby's way better. We both lost," Dean says sharply. Bobby takes over wheeling himself from there and I let go of the handles.

"So, what? So I don't get a say in this anymore?" Sam snaps.

"Sammy, when you get to be our age-" Dean begins sagely.

"Dude, you're thirty, shut up," I scold him lightly.

"Look, I've watched you hustle plenty of poker-" Sam begins.

"Knowing the game is not enough, Sam. It's not about playing the cards," Bobby says sternly.

"It's about playing the other guy. I know that."

"Well, hooray for you. All I'm saying is, I played this guy. I know his style. I can take him."

I turn around, startled. "Wait, when did we get back to _you_ playing?"

"Right around now." Bobby scowls back at me.

"No, Bobby. You don't have enough years in the bank," Dean protests.

"I got enough," Bobby says stubbornly.

"But you'll die if you lose," Sam retorts.

"So what if I do, huh?" The harsh answer stuns us all into silence. "What exactly am I living for, huh? The damn Apocalypse? Watching men die bloody while I sit in this chair, can't take a step to help 'em?"

Is this what Bobby's been keeping from me all this time? There's a lump in my throat that won't go away, no matter how many times I swallow.

"Bobby-" I hear Dean begin, sounding shocked.

"No, no. It's the facts. I'm old, and broke down, and I can't..." Bobby's voice cracks and trails into silence. "I ain't a hunter no more. I'm useless. And if I didn't have Ariel to worry about, I'd have stuck a gun in my mouth the day I got home from the hospital."

"Stop it." My own voice breaks this time. "Just-" I clench my fists, trying to keep my tone even. "Just _don't_." Sam's hand rests on my shoulder, marginally helping, and Bobby avoids looking at me. Dean glances between all of us helplessly.

"Bobby, you are _not_ playing again," Sam says quietly, "I'm not letting you do that. There's another way out of this. There's gotta be. And I'm gonna find it." He squeezes my shoulder once more and then lets go, walking past us. Without looking at either Bobby or Dean, I follow him. When my back's turned, I wipe my eyes.

* * *

"Hey, for the record, you're not playing, so there's no point in you coming with me," Sam tells me sternly when we're about halfway back to the bar where Patrick had played against Dean and Bobby. Dean had called while we were walking; apparently, he and Bobby had been given a spell by Patrick's girlfriend that would reverse all of his magic, but they would need some of Patrick's DNA for the spell to work.

"I know, but the grumpy old men can work out their issues together in their own time." Not to mention that I can't look Bobby in the eye anymore without feeling useless to help him. "'Sides, now I get to learn how to play poker from a distance." I force a smile and Sam places an arm around my shoulders, leading me into the bar.

"Bet your mom would be horrified."

"Ugh. She wouldn't even have let me learn the rules of the game before." I grin back at him. "By the way, you still got the clap?" Sam stiffens and drops the arm around my shoulders, walking away while bitchfacing at me. Laughing, I follow him. "Oh, come on, I'm only kidding! Learn to laugh at yourself, Sam!"

"Screw you!" he shoots back over his shoulder as he opens a door in the wall. We go down a flight of stairs to an underground room. Patrick is sitting across a wooden table from an elderly man.

"Hesh here is gonna live to see his granddaughter's bat mitzvah," Patrick addresses us cheerfully and the elderly man looks up at us, a little surprised by our sudden appearance.

"Thanks again, Patrick," he says, turning back to the witch, who smiles.

"Shalom, my friend. Shalom." Hesh gets up and tips his hat before leaving.

"That was nice of you," Sam notes.

"I'm a nice guy." Patrick begins shuffling the deck of cards in front of him. "What can I do you for?"

Sam sits in the chair across from him. "Deal." I take another seat in the corner of the room anxiously. Even Dean and Bobby had admitted Sam is a bad poker player, so it would take a pure stroke of luck for Sam to win. I just hope said luck is enough.

* * *

Ten minutes in and I have no idea what's going on. The cards and words are flying faster than I can keep up, and Patrick keeps throwing pitying glances my way because I clearly look confused. Eventually, I give up trying to pay attention. Finally, a halt to the game is called and I blink as Sam waves me over.

"Time-out." The pretty woman from the apartment had appeared and was now kissing Patrick.

"Oh, jeez." I roll my eyes. "Get a room, you two."

"Intend to," Patrick replies and winks at me before going back to making out with the woman. Sam places a hand on my shoulder and leads me up the stairs. We leave through the back of the bar and meet Dean there.

"How's it going in there?" he asks.

Sam bitchfaces. "How do you_ think_ it's going?"

"I thought it was pretty good," I volunteer and Sam rolls his eyes.

"Air, that was awful. You really should learn the rules of poker." He turns back to Dean. "What about you? You have everything you need?"

"We still need a little he-witch DNA."

Sam holds up a toothpick. "He was chewing on it." Dean takes it. "Hurry up, Dean, please."

"All right. Just keep him busy. And, Sammy...don't lose." Dean pats Sam reassuringly before turning to head back to the truck. As Sam and I head back into the bar, I tell myself I'm imagining Dean rubbing his arm in pain.

* * *

Sam and Patrick resume their game, cards flying too quickly for me to keep up. I take my seat in the corner, the pretty woman sitting down beside me. She looks worried, which is surprising, but then I remember that she's the one who had given Dean and Bobby the spell.

"Question," Patrick says suddenly, holding up a toothpick, "Is this what you meant to give your big brother?"

I freeze. Sam's expression doesn't change.

"The one you gave him never passed my lips. Won't do a scrap of good." Patrick throws the toothpick carelessly aside. "I don't like cheating, Sam." He clenches his fist suddenly and Sam doubles over, clutching his throat.

"Sam!" I launch out of my chair and Patrick holds out his other hand. I'm slammed against the wall so hard that I see stars for a moment and am suspended there, an invisible force on my throat tightening.

"Stop it!" The woman grabs Patrick's wrist. "Let them go! I did it! I gave them the spell!"

The spell on me and Sam is released and we both gasp for air.

Patrick stares at the woman in shock. "What?" He reaches up to touch her cheek. "Why...why would you do that?"

"You know why." The woman's eyes shine with tears as she grasps the locket around her neck. "You know."

Patrick's expression flickers between hurt and anger before settling on cold blankness. "Keep. Playing." He wrenches his hand away from the woman and sits down.

Sam looks at me, gauging my well-being, and I shake my head at him to tell him that I'm fine and to focus on the game. He nods and turns back to the cards, still rubbing his throat, before setting five chips down.

"Well, look at you - the percentage player betting the farm. Awful transparent of you, Sam." Patrick smirks. "I mean, if I had a monster hand like you have, I'd trap you. But you get so excited, you bet yourself right out of a big pot." He places down his cards. "Fold. Set of ladies, I'm guessing."

I have no idea what's happening anymore as the woman takes a seat beside me once more.

Sam turns over his cards and Patrick nods as Sam stacks his chips. "Nice bluff. If we had time, I could make a real player out of you."

Sam says quietly, "I got time."

"Maybe. But I can't say the same for Dean. Your brother's gonna be dead soon." Sam looks up sharply. "And when I say 'soon,' I mean...minutes." Sam pushes back his chair, but Patrick slams his fist down, yanking Sam back into his seat with magic. Sam looks at me desperately and I get out of my chair, running for the stairs. The same invisible force from before shoves me forward before I can reach them and I crumple at the foot of the stairs. I can taste coppery blood in my mouth from where my lip hits the concrete. "The game's not over till I say it is," Patrick says coldly from behind me, "Blinds."

I groan and turn over, wiping the blood from my lip with my sleeve as I return my attention to the game.

"So. When it's about your brother, you get so emotional, your brain just flies right out the window." Patrick slaps down three cards face-up. "Good to know."

"Go to hell," Sam snarls and shoves all of his chips into the middle. "All in."

"Don't do that, Sam," Patrick sighs.

"I can't leave until it's over? Fine. It's over. Now, where's my brother?" Sam's already getting up.

"Look, there's poker and then there's suicide."

"Just play the hand." Sam's tone is deadly now and Patrick obeys.

"Fine." He turns over his cards. "I'm sorry, kid. Aces full."

Sam looks worried and my heart stops. I look at the woman to see if she has any help to offer, but realize there are tears trickling down her cheeks. "You're crying."

She sniffles and turns away when Patrick stops and looks at her. His expression flickers between hurt and confusion once more.

"Y'know, for a witch, you're so nice, it's actually kind of creepy. It's okay," Sam reassures the woman before turning to Patrick. "It was a great hand." Patrick moves to collect his chips. "Just..." We all freeze as Sam smirks and my heart resumes its normal pace as I beam. "Not as great as four fours." Sam drops his hand.

Patrick looks between the cards and Sam before smiling wryly. "Well played. You know, that whole...going-out-of-your-head bit, very method. Well, there's more to you than meets the eye." He lifts his glass of alcohol in a mock-toast.

"Cash these in for Dean," Sam says calmly.

Patrick sets down the glass. "With pleasure." He waves his hand over the chips and they disintegrate. Sam nods conclusively and stands, helping me to my feet.

"C'mon, Air." I let him lead me up the steps, glancing back at Patrick and the woman one last time before we left the bar.

Sam calls Dean as soon as we're outside.

"Dean? You cured?" He looks relieved at the response he gets and smiles at me, nodding to show that Dean's okay. "Yeah, we're both okay. Ariel just got knocked around a little, got a busted lip. You might want to get the antiseptic out." I make a face at the thought and Sam grins at my expression. "Yeah, see you and Bobby there." He hangs up and wraps an arm around my shoulders. "Not bad for your first hunt, huh?"

I wrinkle my nose. "It'd be better if my mouth wasn't bleeding." Sam ruffles my hair and laughs as we start walking back to the motel.

* * *

The first thing I do when I see Dean back to normal is hug him tightly. He squirms in my embrace until he's mostly free.

"Get off, midget! Don't get your blood on me!" I let go reluctantly and Sam immediately finds the first-aid kit, hovering over me until I allow him to dab at my lip with an antiseptic wipe. It stings, and I accidentally kick Sam once or twice when the pain gets to be too much, but thankfully, I don't need any stitches or bandages. It's then that Bobby rolls in, a bag of food hanging off the back handle of his wheelchair. Dean takes it off so that Bobby can move around freely and the older hunter wheels up to me.

"Hey."

"Hi," I reply.

There's an awkward pause before Bobby finally asks, "We, uh...we good?" I nod, unsure of what to say, and he grasps my hand briefly, squeezing my fingers with a slight smile before nodding to the bag. "Better grab your burger before Dean decides to eat that one, too."

With a grin, I go to save my dinner from Dean's hungry clutches.

"Dude, you're gonna have to get a booster shot," Dean suddenly tells Sam, who stiffens and glares at his brother.

"Jerk."

"Bitch."

I'm too busy laughing to add my own two cents.

* * *

**See, I made up for the other few chapters being short by making this one slightly longer. This ends _The Curious Case of Dean Winchester_ and marks the end of Ariel's first hunt. Next up is one of my favorite episodes of all-time, and you all know what it is, so I won't even say it.**

**Patrick is really underrated, he needed more stuff to do on Supernatural. Poor guy.**

**With that said, please review!**


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

* * *

**_Then:_**

_There's an awkward pause before Bobby finally asks, "We, uh...we good?" I nod, unsure of what to say, and he grasps my hand briefly, squeezing my fingers with a slight smile before nodding to the bag. "Better grab your burger before Dean decides to eat that one, too."_

_With a grin, I go to save my dinner from Dean's hungry clutches._

_"Dude, you're gonna have to get a booster shot," Dean suddenly tells Sam, who stiffens and glares at his brother._

_"Jerk."_

_"Bitch."_

_I'm too busy laughing to add my own two cents._

_**Now:**_

"You're sure this might be a case?" I peer over Sam's shoulder at the laptop monitor. A man has been recently torn to shreds by what officials say was a bear. It's common in these rural areas for bears to wander, but I've never heard of unprecedented bear attacks in someone's house.

"Positive."

It's been a week since my first hunt, and we'd dropped Bobby back at his place in Sioux Falls. Bobby had suggested that maybe it was best that I stuck with Sam and Dean for a while, get some experience in the field for my training, so I had packed my backpack and set off on the road with the Winchesters.

"It sounds weird, anyway," Sam adds, looking back at me. "Could be worth checking out."

"Okay. Hey, Dean! We've got a case!" When Dean doesn't respond from his perch on the bed, I pick up a pair of balled-up socks from the open duffel bag on Sam's bed and throw them at his head. He yelps in surprise, now sufficiently distracted from the hospital drama on the television. "What is that show?" I demand and the title flashes across the screen.

_Dr. Sexy, M.D_.

"...seriously?" I raise my eyebrows as the main doctor - clearly Dr. Sexy - and one of the nurses start making out onscreen. "_Grey's Anatomy_ was better than this crap."

"It's called channel surfing," Dean grumbles as he picks up his tie and starts putting it on.

"When'd you hit menopause?" Sam teases as he closes his laptop and gets to his feet. Dean doesn't answer, scowling as he flicks off the television. "You ready?"

"Are you?" Dean grabs his keys and leaves.

Sam rolls his eyes as he pulls on his suit jacket. "C'mon, Air." Luckily, I don't have to worry about formal clothes; I'm staying in the car while Sam and Dean pose as FBI agents. I'm too young to pass off as an agent, so I won't be going in with them.

* * *

"The Incredible Hulk," I repeat dumbly when the Winchesters climb back into the car.

"Yep."

"Ed Norton or Mark Ruffalo?" Those are the only versions of the Hulk I know, after all.

"There's a version with Mark Ruffalo?" Dean blinks at me and I remember that we're not in 2013.

"Uhh, never mind."

"Lou Ferrigno," Sam informs me, "The T.V. version. We're gonna head back and change before I go check out the crime scene. You coming with me?"

I nod. "Okay."

Sure enough, we're at the crime scene less than an hour later after we drop Dean back at the motel so that he can do some background reading on the case.

"Well, if you ever doubted the Hulk was here before..." I point at the huge hole where the front door should be.

Sam snorts. "Yeah, no, I'm starting to believe it." He flashes his FBI badge at the policeman standing guard and the man allows us to duck under the yellow tape roping off the house.

"Yikes," I say when we're inside the house. The steps look crushed, as if extremely heavy feet had climbed them, and the entire upstairs of the house looks trashed.

"I don't think we can get up there," Sam notes, grimacing at the ruined stairs, before frowning at the floor. "Hey." He kneels down, sifting through the debris on the floor.

"What is it?" I kneel down next to him and he holds something small up.

"Got it." It's a Jolly Rancher wrapper. I look back at the floor, noticing that there's more wrappers from different kinds of candy - Skittles, M&Ms, lollipops - and raising an eyebrow.

"Hulk had a sweet tooth?"

"Not exactly." Sam scoops up the wrappers, stuffing them into his pocket before heading for the hole-that-used-to-be-a-door. I follow him.

"Wait, so what's going on?" Sam climbs into the Impala and I get into the passenger seat.

"My guess? It's the Trickster. Seems like his kind of prank."

"But doesn't he give out 'just desserts?'" I remind Sam as he starts the car. "Why would he just randomly sic the Hulk on this guy?"

"Well, maybe Dean's got the answer to that." Sam pulls onto the main road. "It's good, though, isn't it? We could get a hold of the Trickster and talk to him."

"What if he doesn't want to talk?" I point out.

Sam hesitates. "No harm in asking."

"Sure, if you don't mind getting torn to shreds by Lou Ferrigno," I snark and he bitchfaces at me.

"You've been hanging around Dean too much." I stick my tongue out at him in return.

* * *

"Find anything?" Dean calls as we enter.

"Well, uh, we saw the house," Sam begins.

"And there's a giant hole where the front door used to be," I add.

"A Hulk-sized hole?" Dean raises an eyebrow and I nod.

"What do you got?" Sam asks as he sits down across from Dean.

"Well, it turns out that Bill Randolph had quite the temper." Dean pulls up the deceased man's file. "He's got two counts of spousal battery, bar brawls, and court-ordered anger management sessions. You might say you wouldn't like him when he's angry."

"So a hothead getting killed by T.V.'s greatest hothead. Kinda sounds like just desserts, doesn't it?" Sam meets my eyes over Dean's head. "It's all starting to make sense."

"What is?" Dean frowns.

"We found candy wrappers at the house," I explain as Sam pulls the plastic wrappers out and scatters them onto the table.

"Just desserts, sweet tooth, screwing with people before you kill 'em-" Dean groans. "We're dealing with the Trickster, aren't we?"

"Looks that way," Sam agrees.

"Good. I've wanted to gank that mother since Mystery Spot."

"Dean, we've talked about this," Sam argues.

"No, Sam, we are _not_ getting help from the son of a bitch who made me kick the bucket a hundred times in a row." Dean scowls. "I can't believe you're still on that 'use him to stop the Apocalypse' plan. We find the Colt, we use it on Lucifer, end of story."

Sam pauses before launching his proposal, "Look, the Trickster's like a Hugh Hefner type, right? Wine, women, song - maybe he doesn't want the party to end. Maybe he hates this angels and demons stuff as much as we do. Maybe he'll help us."

Dean stares at Sam. "You're serious."

"Yeah."

"Ally with the Trickster." Dean snorts humorlessly. "A bloody, violent monster, and you wanna be Facebook friends with him? Nice, Sammy."

"I'm with Sam," I say and Dean rolls his eyes.

"Big surprise."

I ignore that and add, "It's the end of the world, Dean. We really can't afford to be picky about our allies."

"I'm just saying it's worth a shot," Sam explains, "That's all. If it doesn't work, we'll kill him."

Dean sighs. "How are we gonna find the guy, anyway?"

"Well, he never takes just one victim, right? He'll show. All we have to do is wait."

* * *

And wait we do. Sam and Dean set up a police scanner and tune it to the local frequency before Dean gets to work sharpening two stakes he finds in the trunk of the Impala. I keep as far away from him as possible; he sharpens the stakes a little more violently than necessary and I don't want an accidental cut from his switchblade. As good as I am with knives, I'd much rather not get gutted by one.

Seeing that I have nothing to do, Sam turns his laptop towards me and I gratefully take it, opening a virtual online piano and plunking away at familiar melodies.

"I didn't know you played," Sam notes.

"Yeah, well, I took lessons for ten years. 'Course, I sucked, so I quit in senior year, but I learned most of the basics." I get through five renditions of "It's a Small World" before Dean snaps.

"Quit playing that!" I grin and obey. "Great, now it's stuck in my head," Dean grumbles.

"Mission accomplished," I say solemnly and Sam high-fives me, chuckling.

The police scanner crackles to life then, a nervous voice patching through the radio.

"_Um, Dispatch? I-I got a possible 187 out here at the old paper mill on Route 6_?"

"Hey." Sam perks up and Dean looks up from sharpening the stakes.

"_Roger that. What are you looking at there, son_?" the dispatch replies.

"_Honestly, Walt, I-I wouldn't even know how to describe what I'm seeing. Just...send everybody._"

"_All right, stay calm, stay by your car. Help's on the way._" Sam turns off the scanner and we all glance at each other.

"That sounds weird," I state the obvious.

"Weird enough to be our guy," Sam adds. Within the minute, we're in the Impala and on the way to the paper mill in question.

* * *

When we arrive, there's no police cars in sight.

"There was a murder here, and there's no police cars. There's nobody. How's that look to you?" Dean looks at me and Sam, raising an eyebrow.

"Suspicious?" I volunteer and Dean rolls his eyes at me.

"You're a natural." As if he's any better; I've seen those "Winchester Logic" gifsets on Tumblr. Dean hands me a flashlight and he and Sam take a stake each. I'm relieved that I don't have to handle the stake, but this leaves me to open the door to the warehouse. Carefully approaching, I swing the door open and we step through.

Instead of a musty damp warehouse stench, the first thing I register is the sterile smell of antiseptic and rubbing alcohol. I've volunteered in enough hospitals to recognize the scent without even looking around. There's some kind of mellow music playing in the background.

"The hell?" I hear Dean demand from behind me. I turn around to see him opening the door we've just emerged through only to find that our exit has been changed into a janitor's closet, where a man and woman - both in scrubs - are making out furiously.

"Too awkward!" I slam the door shut again before I catch sight of my clothes. I'm now wearing scrubs, too, dark blue ones with a neon pink floral pattern that makes me almost nauseous with how bright it is. "Well, there goes my attempt to _not_ be girly," I sigh and realize that Dean and Sam are wearing white lab coats, medical badges pinned to their fronts. Two female doctors in scrubs pass us.

"Doctor," one greets the other.

"Doctor," the other replies in the same tone.

"Doctor?" Sam echoes.

"Doctor who?" I add, unable to resist, and Sam throws me a bitchface when he registers the reference. I grin shamelessly.

Suddenly, a brunette woman approaches Sam. "Doctor." Before Sam can reply, she slaps him hard across the face. I don't bother hiding my laughter. "Seriously? You're brilliant, you know that? And a coward. You're a brilliant coward."

"Is that an oxymoron?" I manage through my giggles and the woman whirls around to glare at me for making fun of her apparently-serious dialogue.

"Um. What are you talking about?" Sam returns her attention to him and she slaps him again. He grimaces, clearly regretting getting her attention once more.

"As if you don't know!" She stalks off as Sam rubs his reddening cheek with a wince.

Dean stares after the female doctor, wide-eyed. "I don't believe this. That's Dr. Piccolo."

"Who?" Sam and I ask blankly.

"Dr. Ellen Piccolo. The sexy, yet earnest doctor at-" Dean sees the name of the hospital on the wall and gestures to it wildly. "Seattle Mercy Hospital!"

Luckily for my clueless self, Sam doesn't seem to catch on, either. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"The doctor getups. The - the sexy interns. The 'seriouslys.' It all makes sense."

"Oh, no. Please don't tell me we're in-" I groan.

"_Dr. Sexy, M.D_." Dean's expression is a mix between bewilderment and excitement.

* * *

"Dude, what the hell." It's not a question, and I don't think Dean means it to be as we walk down the hallway. I'm running through all the possibilities. It seems too real to be some sort of illusion; I'm pretty sure the rubbing alcohol scent is going to linger on me until I take a long shower. But we can't be in a real hospital; Dean even admits that _Dr. Sexy_ is just a television show.

I suddenly realize that I might be in a television show...inside a television show. Wow. If that isn't telly-ception or something, I don't know what is.

"I don't know," Sam replies to Dean's not-question, sounding just as confused.

"No, seriously, what the hell."

"I don't know."

"That's enlightening," I mutter at the Winchesters' backs as I follow them.

"All right, smart-ass," Dean snaps back at me, "One theory. Any theory."

"The Trickster trapped us in T.V. Land," I suggest.

"That's your idea? That's stupid."

"Oh, just because _I'm_ the one who suggested it..." I roll my eyes.

"You're the one who said we're on _Dr. Sexy, M.D.,_" Sam points out to Dean.

"Yeah, but T.V. Land isn't 'T.V. Land.' I mean, there's actors and, and lights and crew members, you know. This looks real." Which basically summarizes my earlier thought process. Way to keep up, Dean.

As if catching my thought process, Dean glares over his shoulder at me. "Stop it."

"What?" I blink, startled.

"That 'I'm so much smarter than you' look." He sulks and I pat his shoulder.

"There, there. _You're_ so much smarter than me." He nods, satisfied. "Slower, of course, but still smarter." Sam snorts as Dean glowers once more.

Suddenly, an Asian doctor walks past us. "Doctors."

"There goes Dr. Wang. The sexy, but arrogant heart surgeon," Dean says quietly, glancing after her.

"Dude, I'm not even a doctor," I realize as I look down at my identification card, "I'm a _nurse. _I don't even want to go to nursing school!"

"Nothing wrong with that," Sam tells me.

"Yeah, well, for someone who's actually planning to get her M.D., this is stupid." I take off the identification card and pitch it into the nearest trash can.

"And there's Johnny Drake," Dean adds, seeing a man sitting on a gurney, "Oh, he's not even alive, he's a _ghost_ in the mind of-" He breaks off when another female doctor approaches said ghost. "Of her. The sexy, yet neurotic doctor over there."

"So...this show has ghosts? Why?" Sam asks.

"I don't know. It _is_ compelling," Dean says absently.

"I thought you said you weren't a fan," I remind him, grinning.

"I'm not!" Dean bristles, but then looks past us, his eyes doubling in size. "Oh, boy."

"What?" I turn around to see yet another doctor, this time a tall man with shoulder-length dark hair, approaching us.

"It's him, it's Dr. Sexy." Dean's voice has become breathless now, and I recognize the symptoms of a fangirl immediately.

"Don't drool too much," I shoot over my shoulder as Dr. Sexy stops in front of us. I can hear Sam fighting back laughter behind me.

"Doctor," Dr. Sexy intones solemnly.

"D-Doctor," Dean says quickly and though I can't see his face, he sounds almost shy. There's so much blackmail I plan to use from this incident.

"Doctor," Dr. Sexy addresses Sam next.

After Dean steps on his foot, Sam grunts, "Doctor."

Dr. Sexy then turns to me, frowns briefly, before adding, "Nurse."

"What?" I look down and there's the identification card I'd thrown out, safely attached to my front pocket. "Oh, for crying out loud!" I tear it off and throw it into the trash can again. Dr. Sexy doesn't seem perturbed by my outburst, but Dean looks scandalized that I've spoken so brashly in front of his idol.

"You want to give me one good reason why you defied my direct order to do the experimental face transplant on Mrs. Biehl?" Dr. Sexy now asks Dean sternly.

The older Winchester's face switches from fangirl-mode to total confusion. "One reason?" Dr. Sexy raises an eyebrow, waiting for an answer. "Sure." Dean looks down before his expression suddenly changes to anger. He slams Dr. Sexy against the wall abruptly and unfortunately, all I can think of is _please don't kiss him in front of me and Sam, save yourself for Cas._

I am a terrible friend and a shameless fangirl.

"You're not Dr. Sexy," Dean snarls.

"You're crazy," Dr. Sexy says. He sounds a little too calm for someone who's just been slammed into a wall.

"Really? Because I swore part of what makes Dr. Sexy sexy is the fact that he wears cowboy boots. Not tennis shoes."

"Yeah, you're not a fan," Sam snickers.

"It's a guilty pleasure," Dean admits grudgingly.

"Call security," Dr. Sexy says almost lazily to a nearby nurse.

"Yeah, go ahead, pal. See, we know who you are." Suddenly, everyone around us freezes, as if someone's hit the pause button on a remote. I guess the analogy's accurate since we're apparently in a television show. Dr. Sexy's scowling face then morphs into a familiar grinning one.

"You guys are getting better!" The Trickster now stands where Dr. Sexy had been, his golden eyes bright with amusement. He looks past Dean and winks at me. "Hey, there, Ariel. Nice to finally meet you in person."

* * *

**If you guys are surprised I'm stopping it here, shame on you. I'm a sucker for cliffhangers, whether they're predictable or not. But here's the first part of _Changing Channels_, quite possibly my favorite SPN episode of all time. And of course, the first official introduction of the Trickster, and anyone who's had the misfortune of having a review answered by me knows that the Trickster holds a large place in my heart for obvious reasons.**

**Ariel's story will come out soon, I promise, and it will partially have to deal with the Trickster, hence all the subterfuge until this episode.**

**Reviews are nice. Like flowers, but require less maintenance. Send them. (Send flowers, too, if you wish, but again. Maintenance.)**


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11  
**

* * *

**_Then:_**

_"Yeah, you're not a fan," Sam snickers._

_"It's a guilty pleasure," Dean admits grudgingly._

_"Call security," Dr. Sexy says almost lazily to a nearby nurse._

_"Yeah, go ahead, pal. See, we know who you are." Suddenly, everyone around us freezes, as if someone's hit the pause button on a remote. I guess the analogy's accurate since we're apparently in a television show. Dr. Sexy's scowling face then morphs into a familiar grinning one._

_"You guys are getting better!" The Trickster now stands where Dr. Sexy had been, his golden eyes bright with amusement. He looks past Dean and winks at me. "Hey, there, Ariel. Nice to finally meet you in person._"

_**Now:**_

The Trickster's much more cheerful now than I've ever seen him, but Sam doesn't allow him the chance to talk to me anymore as the taller man steps between us, hiding me from the Trickster's sight.

"How do you know her?" I peek around Sam to see the Trickster's reaction.

"Please, who _hasn't_ heard of her? She crossed dimensions, for crying out loud, that stuff doesn't just slide under the supernatural radar." The Trickster shrugs as best as he can while Dean has him pinned to the wall. "Besides, we're not here to talk about little Ariel, we're here to talk about _you_ two."

"Get us the hell out of here," Dean snaps.

"Or what?" The Trickster takes Dean's arm and twists it, earning a hiss of pain from Dean. "Don't say you have wooden stakes, big guy."

Shocking myself with my own recklessness, I grab his wrist, trying to yank it away from Dean's arm. "Stop it!" The Trickster's eyes flick to me, his expression startled, before he grudgingly releases Dean.

"That was you on the police scanner, right? This is a trick," Sam realizes.

"Helloooo? Trickster!" The shorter man recovers quickly from his surprise at my boldness with a sarcastic comeback. "Come on! I heard you two yahoos were in town. How could I resist?"

"Where the hell are we?" Dean demands as he rubs his arm.

"Like it?" The Trickster grins. "It's all homemade. My own sets." He raps on a nearby glass window. "My own actors." He gestures to the frozen people around us. "Call it my own little idiot box."

"How do we get out?"

"That, my friend, is the sixty-four-dollar question," the Trickster replies with a smirk.

"Whatever," Sam dismisses and plunges ahead, "We just - we need to talk to you. We need your help."

"Let me guess." The Trickster scrunches his nose in mock-thought. "You two muttonheads broke the world, and you want me to sweep up your mess."

"Please. Just five minutes. Hear us out," Sam pleads.

"Tell you what. Survive the next twenty-four hours, we'll talk." The Trickster crosses his arms.

"Survive what?" Dean says blankly.

"The game!" The Trickster grins delightedly.

"What game?" Sam asks.

"You're playing it," the Trickster retorts vaguely.

"What're the rules?" I pipe up. The Trickster doesn't answer, but instead grins cheekily before vanishing in a burst of static. The scene resumes, doctors and nurses milling around us.

"Son of a bitch," Dean summarizes our combined feelings, looking disgruntled as we start walking down the hallway.

I catch sight of the nametag which has reappeared on my clothes and scowl. "That is_ it_! If this thing shows up on me one more time, I'm gonna feed it to you!" I yell at the ceiling, startling both Winchesters, as I rip off the identification card and toss it over my shoulder.

"...I think I'm actually a little scared of you," Dean tells me, wide-eyed, and I shrug. After a moment to recover from the shock, he turns back to Sam. "Oh, by the way. Talking with monsters? Hell of a plan."

"Well, what do we do now?" Sam demands plaintively.

"You know what I'm doing? Leaving." Dean heads for the door just as Dr. Ellen Piccolo reappears. She takes yet another swing at Sam, who dodges quickly.

"Lady, what the hell?!"

"You are a brilliant, brilliant-" she begins.

"Yeah. A coward. You already said that. But I got news for you:_ I am not a doctor_!" I have to resist the urge to laugh, given how serious the situation is.

"Don't say that. You are the finest cerebrovascular neurosurgeon I have ever met, and I have met plenty. So that girl died on your table. It wasn't your fault. It wasn't anybody's fault. Sometimes people just _die_," Dr. Piccolo tells Sam breathlessly.

Sam looks almost as if he's buying what she says, but then tells her frankly, "I have no idea what you're saying to me."

"You're afraid. You're afraid to operate again. And you're afraid to love." Sobbing, she runs away.

"...is it bad to laugh at how bad that acting was?" I ask, biting the inside of my cheek to stifle any laughter. Even Kristen Stewart had acted better than that in_ Twilight_.

Sam blinks and then looks at Dean, who's waiting halfway between us and the door, his eyebrows raised. "Yeah, we're getting out of here." We quickly start walking for the door.

"Hey, Doctor." Dean turns around and so do Sam and I. We see a man standing in the doorway to a hospital room. "My wife needs that face transplant."

The last bit of patience Dean has is quickly lost. "Okay. You know what, pal? None of this is real, and your wife doesn't need jack squat. Okay?" He turns back around to start walking and thinking that's the end of it, Sam turns to follow.

"Hey, Doctor," Mr. Biehl calls again and pulls out a gun from the inside of his jacket calmly.

"DEAN!" I scream, but it's too late as the gun fires. Dean collapses as blood stains the back of his white lab coat.

"Real," he gasps as Sam kneels down beside him, his hazel eyes wide with panic, "It's real."

"No, no, no, no, no," Sam says desperately before looking up at the almost-deserted hallway and yelling, "Hey! We need a doctor!"

"Sam, we _are_ the doctors," I remind him.

"Damn it." Thankfully, we see a gurney pull up to us, two nurses handling it, and Sam carefully helps Dean onto it. Surprisingly, Dean's perfectly lucid as we run alongside the gurney to the operating room.

"Y'know, for someone who's just been shot in the back, you're taking it pretty well," I tell him.

"Yeah, well." Dean's face is pale as he grimaces; just because he's awake, doesn't mean he's not in pain. "It's still a T.V. show. Gunshots don't mean the same thing they do in reality." I slip my hand into his, hoping it'll help, and he squeezes my fingers weakly. "Thanks," he mumbles as we roll the gurney to a stop in the operating room.

As the room fills with doctors preparing for surgery, I glance down at my uniform while pulling on a pair of green surgical scrubs over it. No nametag; well, at least the Trickster had taken my threat seriously. Dean is stripped of his lab coat and shirt and placed face-down on the operating table, a hole in the headrest for his face. Sam looks completely nonplussed as a doctor holds out a scalpel.

"Doctor?"

"What?" Sam blinks and I facepalm.

"Sam, do something," Dean hisses at his brother.

"I don't know how to use any of this crap," Sam protests.

"Figure it out!"

"You're a med kid," Sam says to me helplessly and I shrug.

"Hey, I'm still in undergrad." Still, I grab the absorbent gauze another nurse is holding out and press it gently against the wound in Dean's back to wipe away the blood around the injury.

"Okay, um..." I hear Sam stammer from behind me, "I need a penknife, some dental floss, a sewing needle, and a fifth of whiskey." He looks around when the nurses and doctors around him do nothing.

"Say 'stat,'" I advise as I press the gauze against the bullet wound once more, "Works in every hospital drama." Dean hisses slightly in pain and I pat his shoulder reassuringly.

"Stat!" Sam says loudly and the operating room is set in motion once more as everyone scrambles to acquire the things he needs. Ten minutes later, the bullet is out and the wound is slowly stitched closed. Most of the whiskey is gone, only half of it used for cleansing the wound - the other half gone to Dean's liver - and Sam's gloves are bloody. He had taken over once the supplies had arrived, allowing me to pull off my operating scrubs and gloves as I leave the operating room to wait outside.

I see Dr. Ellen Piccolo there, pressing her hand against the glass of the window as tears stream down her cheeks and, when Sam looks her way, whispering dramatically, "I love you." Sam looks about as disturbed as I feel.

"What is _wrong_ with you, lady?" She glowers at me, the moment having been ruined, but I can hear Sam's muffled laughter through the closed window and Dean's confused voice demanding what's going on with him, so it's totally worth it.

Sam waves to me, calling me back in as he looks worried, so I leave the drama queen to her business and run back into the operating room.

* * *

Except I'm not in the operating room when I run through the doors. There's a weird chanting in a foreign language, like a live audience, and I feel really cold. When I look down, I realize why. I'm in a bright red plastic two-piece dress, the top stopping just above my stomach and the skirt going down to the middle of my thighs. My hair is tied into pigtails - _pigtails_, for crying out loud, I haven't worn this kind of hairstyle since I was _five_ - and I'm wearing white boots that stop halfway up my calves.

"That's it, I'm so staking this guy," I grumble, wrapping my arms around my waist to cover myself up a little. At least my neckline isn't too low.

"Join the club," I hear Dean say irritably and look up to see him and Sam strapped by the shoes to individual platforms. There's a huge red ball that looks like it's made of metal on a large lever in front of each of them.

"At least you guys got your own clothes back," I complain, seeing that they're wearing the same jackets and shirts and jeans they'd worn earlier.

Sam glances at me, taking in my ridiculously-skanky outfit. "Yeah, I guess we got the better deal."

Suddenly, the blue doors behind us slide open and a Japanese man runs through it, beaming at the invisible audience.

He yells something in Japanese before adding in English, "Let's play Nutcracker!" A loud cheer goes up. The host adds something else in Japanese before pulling out an index card. "Sam Winchester."

Sam starts at the sound of his name. "Huh?"

The host asks a question in Japanese and I pick out the words for "brother" and "demon" - not nearly enough to put together and I curse the fact that I haven't watched enough anime to understand the question. "Countdown!" The giant LED screen next to me flashes the number 20 before ticking down the seconds.

"Wha-? I-I don't understand Japanese," Sam protests weakly.

The host simply repeats the question, still in Japanese.

"Is he screwing with me?" Sam asks Dean plaintively and Dean shrugs, looking just as confused. "I-I don't speak Japanese!" Sam tries again just as time runs out.

The host says something in Japanese before saying loudly, "Ruby!"

"Oh!" I facepalm, realizing the question.

"I am sorry, Sam Winchester," the host says grimly.

"Sorry?"

The host mimes a shocked look, his hand covering his mouth, just as the ball on the lever flies up and slams into Sam's crotch. Dean's eyes double in size as he hisses in sympathy, and I wince as Sam doubles over, gasping in pain.

"Nutcracker!" the host calls to the audience triumphantly.

"Sam, you okay?" Dean asks and Sam makes a strangled noise, incapable of forming words. I awkwardly reach over and pat his shoulder.

"There, there. Look at it this way, at least now you can't kill anyone else by sleeping with them." Sam shoots me a dirty look even as he grimaces in pain and I shrug. "Hey, it's true and you know it." Suddenly, I'm yanked backwards by the shoulder, a plastic bag of something thrust into my hands. I look at the bag, bewildered, and find that it's some sort of chips.

The host looks at me expectantly.

"Am I supposed to eat these or something?" I say dumbly.

"Advertise them," Dean suggests from his platform.

"I don't speak Japanese, either!" The host continues to stare at me. "You know what?! Here!" I throw the bag of chips at him. "_You_ advertise the fucking chips!" The bag bounces off the host's chest and fall to the floor as he gives me a disapproving look. "Oh, don't look at me like that, it's your own fault!" I bury my head into my hands helplessly. "I'm arguing with a Japanese reality show host. What even is my life."

"At least you're not gonna get hit in the crotch," Sam grumbles weakly, having finally regained the ability to speak.

The lights above the doors flash before the doors slide open and Castiel walks through.

"Cas!" I say, relieved.

"It's me." Castiel looks between the three of us, taking in our states. "Uhh. What are you doing here?"

"Us? What're _you_ doing here?" Dean demands.

"Looking for you three, you've been missing for days."

"So get us the hell out of here, then!" Sam says and Castiel reaches for us.

"Let's go." Suddenly, he disappears in a burst of static and I let out a groan of despair.

"No, no, no, no, no." The host steps between us. "Mr. Trickster does not like pretty-boy angels."

"Well, 'Mr. Trickster' can shove it up his ass," I grumble. The host gives me a scowl before pulling out another card.

"Dean Winchester." Dean looks terrified. The host asks something in Japanese and I pick out the words "mother," "father," "alive," and "brother." This time, I manage to piece the question together.

"Hey, that's not fair! That's technically a philosophical question!" I complain and the host shrugs at me.

"Countdown!" The twenty seconds begin dwindling down as Dean looks at me.

"What's the question?" I open my mouth to tell him, but suddenly, a piece of duct tape materializes over my mouth. I attempt to pull it off and it doesn't budge.

"What do I do?!" Dean gives up on help from me and looks at Sam desperately. "I don't wanna get hit in the nuts!"

"I don't know, I-I, uh..." Sam thinks before it hits him. "Wait. I played a doctor. In _Dr. Sexy_, I played a doctor. I operated."

"So?" Dean says blankly.

"So I played the role the Trickster wanted me to play. Maybe we should just go along with it."

"Go along with what?"

"With the _game_!" Sam says exasperatedly, "You know, we're on a game show, right? So just answer the question!"

"In Japanese?" Dean looks at me and I give him a thumbs-up, agreeing with Sam's plan. "I don't know Japanese!"

"Try!"

"Damn it!" Dean slams his hand on the buzzer in front of him, stopping the timer. The host looks at him expectantly and, to both my surprise and Sam's, Dean answers the question in tentative Japanese. The host repeats the tail end of Dean's answer and Dean confirms it, bracing himself for a hit to the crotch.

"Dean Winchester, Nutcracker champion!" Dean cracks one eye open when no hit comes and instead, balloons float down from the ceiling. The crowd cheers.

"How did you do that?" Sam asks, wide-eyed.

"I have no idea." Dean grins shakily.

"So that's it. We play our roles, we survive," Sam notes.

"But for how long?" I manage as I finally manage to rip the tape off. _Ow_.

"Good question." The grin fades from Dean's face when he realizes that we're essentially screwed.

* * *

We abruptly switch settings, this time to a brightly-colored motel room. It's only me and Dean in the room, though I have a feeling Sam's not far away. I'm no longer in the stupid plastic dress, but I'm still wearing a skirt - black and knee-length, thank goodness - and a long-sleeved blue blouse. Dean's voice suddenly echoes around the room, even though Dean himself doesn't speak.

"Supernatural_ is filmed before a live studio audience._" Oh, no. This is _definitely_ telly-ception or something.

Dean turns from the open fridge and looks at the huge sandwich on the table. "I'm gonna need a bigger mouth." A laugh track plays from the black void where the supposed audience is.

"That's what she said," I mutter and he glowers at me even as the laugh track repeats.

Sam then enters the room to applause.

"Hey there, Sam. What's happening?" Dean says cheerfully.

"Oh, nothing. Just the end of the world." More laugh track and Sam's forced smile becomes even more tense as he looks at the sandwich. "You're gonna need a bigger mouth."

I open my mouth before thinking better of repeating the joke. "You guys are just fuelling the shippers, you realize." Both of them turn white with horror and the laugh track goes off again. I'm suspecting it's on a loop.

"Hey, uh, have you done your research yet?" Sam asks.

Dean looks as if he's been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. "Oh, yeah. All kinds of research. All night."

"Yeah?" Sam looks impressed.

The bathroom door then opens and a woman appears in the doorway, clad in only a bikini. "Oh, _Dean_." We all turn to face her as she grins. "We have some more 'research' to do." Laugh track.

"Dean," Sam says sternly and Dean looks at the invisible audience.

"Son of a bitch!"

Cue cheerful opening sequence and cheesy theme song. Okay, I won't deny it, the song is pretty awesome for a spur-of-the-moment creation and I'm sort of considering asking the Trickster for a copy of it. Not to mention watching our names and our respective actors flashing across the screen in _Full House_ font as we run around a park attempting to be cheerful is cool. Jensen Ackles, Jared Padalecki, and Misha Collins go by before my own actress's name comes up. Curious, I pause in my throwing a football at Sam's head to read it.

_Lucy Hale._

Huh. That's actually rather flattering, seeing as she's beautiful and I'm...well, not _ugly_, but certainly not pretty. Dismissing it, I successfully nail Sam in the head with the football and he comically falls over.

Finally, we're back in the motel room at the table, Sam and Dean clinking beers as the theme song draws to a close.

* * *

We're now on a basketball court, all of us dressed in workout clothes.

"Pants!" I exclaim, relieved, plucking at the sweatpants I now wear. "Oh, how I've missed you!"

Dean actually rolls his eyes at me. "Freak."

I glower back at him. "Don't make me ask the Trickster to stick you back in_ Nutcracker_." His face turns pale at the threat as I pick up the basketball and throw it, missing the hoop by a long shot. There's a reason I was never any good at gym class.

"_I've got genital herpes_," a woman's voice echoes through the air and we look around, bewildered.

"_I've got genital herpes_," a man's voice then repeats.

Dean and I look at each other before glancing at Sam, who scowls. "Seriously?"

"Hey, you're the one who said play our roles." Dean pats Sam's shoulder and Sam sighs wearily before looking at the black void that seems to be where the "camera" is located.

"I've...got genital herpes," he says uncomfortably.

I snort. "Is it a bit weird that every supernatural creature I've met so far seems to have an issue with Sam's genitals?" Dean chokes on air and starts laughing as Sam throws us an epic bitchface.

The woman's voice continues, "_I tried to be responsible_."

The man adds, "_Did I try_."

Sam's jaw clenches. "But now I take twice daily Herpexia to reduce my chances of passing it on."

"_Ask your doctor about using_ _Herpexia_," the woman says.

Dean pipes up, unable to stop himself from saying, "Patients should always consult with a physician before using Herpexia. Possible side effects include headache, diarrhea, permanent erectile dysfunction, thoughts of suicide, and nausea." He looks nauseous himself after that speech.

I'm the only one laughing hysterically at the looks of discomfort on both their faces as Sam says grudgingly, "I am doing all I can to slightly lessen the spread of - of genital herpes." He forces a smile that looks painful. "And that's a good thing." He grabs the basketball from Dean and shoots. The ball swishes through the net...

* * *

...and we're back in the motel room, as if we'd never left it.

"_We now return to _Supernatural_,_" Dean's voice says, even though the real Dean's mouth doesn't move.

"Son of a bitch!" Dean repeats.

Sam leads the bikini-clad woman out of the motel room, looking uncomfortable. "I am really, really, very sorry, but, uh, we've got some work to do."

"But we _did_ do work." The woman shoots a conspiratorial grin over her shoulder at Dean. "In _depth_." Laugh track.

Dean flushes and waves a little at her as Sam shuts the door behind her. "How long do we have to keep doing this?" he says through a forced smile as the invisible crowd applauds.

"Maybe forever?" I suggest wryly.

"We could die in here," Sam says grimly through his own fake grin and the audience laughs.

Dean shoots them a dirty look. "How is that funny?! Vultures."

Suddenly, the door slams open and Castiel stumbles through. His face is bloody and the audience gasps at the sight of it.

"Cas, are you okay?" Dean asks, startled, and I move to examine the angel's injuries.

He jerks away from my touch, shaking his head. "I don't have much time. This thing is more powerful than it should be."

"What, the Trickster?" Dean demands.

"If it _is_ a Trickster."

"What do you mean?" Before Castiel can respond, he's thrown against the wall by an invisble force. When he staggers to his feet, a piece of duct tape is plastered over his mouth. So much for non-repetitive material.

The Tricskter then appears in the doorway, grinning mischievously. "Hello!" The audience goes wild, cheering and wolf-whistling. I'm pretty sure I hear some girls screaming "OMG, I love you!" from the crowd. Chatspeak should _not_ be allowed to be spoken out loud. "Thank you, thank you, ladies!" The Trickster smirks, clearly loving the attention from his own handiwork, before turning to Castiel. "Hi, Castiel!" Castiel's eyes widen as the Trickster snaps his fingers, vanishing the angel with another burst of static.

"You know him?" Sam asks.

"Where'd you send him?!" Dean snaps furiously and I can't help but inwardly "aww" at his protectiveness over Castiel. Damn my fangirl instincts.

"Relax, he'll live." The Trickster's eyes slide sideways thoughtfully. "Mmmaybe." Laugh track.

The last of Dean's patience disappears. "All right, you know what? I am done with the monkey dance, okay? We get it."

"Yeah?" The Trickster tilts his head. "Get what, hotshot?"

"Playing our roles, right? That's your game?"

"That's _half_ the game." Still, the Trickster grins delightedly, glad Dean's catching on.

"What's the other half?" Sam pipes up.

"Play your roles _out there_." The Trickster waves vaguely at the door. "You know." His voice adopts an announcer-like quality. "'Sam starring as Lucifer. Dean starring as Michael.' Your celebrity death match. _Play your roles_."

"You want us to say yes to those sons of bitches?" Sam sounds about as horrified as I feel.

"Hells yeah. Let's _light_ this candle!"

"But the world will end," I protest, finally speaking up, and the Trickster rolls his eyes at me.

"Yeah? And whose fault is that, princess? I know you're all in the Winchesters' corner, but you can't deny who popped Lucifer out of the box." Sam flinches and looks at the floor. "Look, it's started. You started it. It can't be stopped. So let's get it over with!" Despite his casual tone, he stares at me as if he's willing me to understand something, but I can't understand what it is.

"Heaven or hell, which side're you on?" Dean demands and the unknown emotion slips off the Trickster's face as he turns back to Dean.

"Neither."

Dean smirks humorlessly. "Yeah, right. You're grabbing ankle for Michael or Lucifer. Which one is it?"

"You listen to me, you arrogant _dick_. I don't work for either of those S.O.B.s, believe me."

Dean hums thoughtfully. "Oh, you're somebody's bitch."

All humor disappears from the Trickster's face as he grabs the front of Dean's jacket and slams the older Winchester against the wall. I try to intervene again, like last time, but the Trickster simply shoves me back with his free hand. I stumble backwards, startled.

"Don't you ever, _ever_ presume to know what I am." The Trickster's voice, normally light and amused, is now pitched dangerously low. Dean grunts slightly, struggling to breathe against the crushing grip on his windpipe, and the Trickster smirks. "Now listen very closely. Here's what's gonna happen." He looks between Dean and Sam. "You're gonna suck it up, accept your responsibilities, and play the roles that_ destiny_ has chosen for you." On the word "destiny," he presses down on Dean's throat and Dean chokes.

"And if we don't?" Sam says quietly.

The Trickster smiles coldly. "Then you'll stay here in T.V. Land. Forever." A small chuckle leaves his lips. "Three hundred channels and, uh, nothing's on." He lifts his free hand and snaps his fingers. The motel room around us dissipates and we prepare for the next show we land in.

Except when I look around, Sam and Dean are nowhere to be found.

* * *

**I wanted to get this episode done with by this chapter, but _Changing Channels_ took much longer than I expected to write out. So hopefully, it'll be completed in the next chapter.**

**Damn you and your awesomeness, Trickster. I swear, I'm probably one of those screaming girls in the fake audience. ****Also, I do imagine Lucy Hale as Ariel, except maybe with lighter hair.**

**Review and I will give you all Fritos - perhaps the greatest chips of all time.**


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12  
**

* * *

_**Then:**_

_"Don't you ever, ever presume to know what I am." The Trickster's voice, normally light and amused, is now pitched dangerously low. Dean grunts slightly, struggling to breathe against the crushing grip on his windpipe, and the Trickster smirks. "Now listen very closely. Here's what's gonna happen." He looks between Dean and Sam. "You're gonna suck it up, accept your responsibilities, and play the roles that destiny has chosen for you." On the word "destiny," he presses down on Dean's throat and Dean chokes._

_"And if we don't?" Sam says quietly._

_The Trickster smiles coldly. "Then you'll stay here in T.V. Land. Forever." A small chuckle leaves his lips. "Three hundred channels and, uh, nothing's on." He lifts his free hand and snaps his fingers. The motel room around us dissipates and we prepare for the next show we land in._

_Except when I look around, Sam and Dean are nowhere to be found._

_**Now:**_

It's probably not a good sign that I start panicking the instant I realize Sam and Dean aren't in the dull gray room with me. For someone who's only known the Winchesters for about a month or so, I've gotten ridiculously attached to them.

"Ariel?" a familiar voice rasps and I nearly collapse in relief when I turn to see Castiel slumped against the wall.

"Cas!" I kneel beside him. "You okay?"

"My nose seems to be bleeding," he tells me and I can't help but grin at the frank statement.

"Let me see." I pull his wrist away from his nose; he'd been attempting to stem the blood flow with his sleeve. "It's okay, you're just a little banged up. Tilt your head back."

Castiel obediently does so, frowning. "I normally heal faster."

"Yeah, well, you _are_ technically a fallen angel now."

He nods contemplatively before leaning his head back against the wall once more. "It's...disconcerting."

"I'll bet. What happened, anyway?"

"I was transported to a strange place featuring very angry men yelling that they were not the fathers of someone's child. I attempted to intervene before one man could strike the woman in question, but the audience watching did not seem bothered by the violence."

Piecing together the situation, I can't help but snort. "Obviously. You were probably on _Jerry Springer_ or something." Poor Castiel. He'd just been trying to help, too.

"You oughta know better, Cassie, it's more fun when you don't get in the way," the Trickster says cheerfully from behind us and Castiel glowers at a point over my shoulder.

"You allowed your pawns to beat me rather than face me yourself?" His tone is dry, but his glare remains accusing. I have to hand it to Castiel; even when at his weakest, he's still pretty good at delivering verbal beatdowns.

"Please, I don't have to waste my energy on you."

"Where are Sam and Dean Winchester?" Castiel demands.

"The muttonheads? They're dealing with a fake me over on CSI: Miami. Should be busy for a while."

I finally turn to face the Trickster. "Okay, now it's _my_ turn to ask questions."

"Is it?" The Trickster tilts his head, but there's that expression again, the one that's begging me silently to understand something beyond my control. "Sweetheart, I don't think you realize this, but I'm in charge here. Not you."

"I've been dreaming about you ever since I saw you in the park," I plunge ahead, ignoring him.

Surprise briefly flashes across his face before it melts into forced amusement. "Ain't that sweet. You're gonna make me blush, kiddo."

"You looked sad." I get to my feet as I note how his eyes widen at the observation. "Why? What do you know about me?"

And there's the sadness I'd just told him about even as he smiles tiredly. "Believe me, Ariel, you don't want to know."

"I think I do." I cross my arms stubbornly.

He rubs the back of his neck and sighs. "First things first...Castiel was right. I'm not a Trickster."

"I thought we had established that," Castiel grumbles as he gets to his feet, "Hello, Gabriel."

"Gabriel?" I look between Castiel and the Trickster - or rather, _Gabriel_. "The archangel?"

"Guilty." Gabriel gives me a wry smile.

"How'd you know?" I look at Castiel, who shrugs.

"Little bro can see my wings." Gabriel looks disgruntled at the thought and I try to imagine his wings. They seem like they'd be golden, for some reason.

"Well, what does that have to do with me?" I demand.

"Weren't you wondering how you were brought to this universe?" Gabriel tilts his head at me and I feel like my heart's leapt into my throat.

"You?"

"Me." Gabriel shoves his hands into his pockets. "Figured it was the least I could do, since I was the one who put you there to begin with."

"You...what?" I'm rocking the eloquency today, aren't I?

"Castiel, do you remember Ariel?" Before Castiel can raise an eyebrow and point at me, Gabriel adds, "Our sister."

"Yes. The youngest archangel. She was cast down by Michael when she-" Castiel breaks off suddenly, looking at me as if he's seeing me for the first time. "In Father's name," he murmurs, stunned.

"What?" I shuffle uncomfortably under his gaze. "You think _I'm_ some archangel who disappeared ages ago?"

"More like I _know _you are." Gabriel smiles humorlessly. "You came to me when Michael cast you down. You begged me for help because Michael had called for your death for treason. I sent you to that other universe to protect you."

This all sounds so bizarre, like some plot twist out of a terrible Mary-Sue fanfiction that would earn it tons of flames. "I-I don't remember any of that."

"'Course you don't. I wiped your slate clean before I shipped you off. You were safer that way, and happier."

"Then why the hell did you bring me back?" I demand and he looks hurt.

I feel guilty for all of a second before he says carefully, "I had to." My guilt promptly disappears.

"Don't pull that crap on me." I'm surprised at the anger in my own tone. "No one makes you do anything."

"True." He quirks a humorless smile. "But when Daddy calls, even I've gotta listen."

"Our Father?" Castiel's eyes double in size and I can almost see the hope radiating off him in waves. "You've spoken to Father?"

"Drop it, Castiel." Gabriel gives him a sharp look. "Dad doesn't want to be found. He told me to bring Ariel home and then he swanned off again, just like last time."

Castiel deflates slightly, but he still looks a little relieved, as if glad that God is at least still alive.

"Just to confirm," I say, turning the angels' attention back to me, "I had wings?"

"Yep." Gabriel nods, quirking a slightly-amused smile. "Big, fluffy, gray ones. They were always tangled up in something or the other."

"'Were?'" I echo.

"They disappeared with your Grace, kiddo, and I have no idea where that landed when Michael cast you down."

"Oh," I say dumbly. Well, what else can I say to finding out I'm not actually human, after all, and instead I happen to be one of the most powerful creatures in existence? I feel like I'm going to be sick, but swallow back the nausea.

Gabriel tilts his head then, listening to something beyond my ears. "Sounds like Dean-o's given in. Catch you two later. We'll have a big family reunion." He winks at us and disappears, but not before I catch the brief flash of sorrow on his face.

I sink to the floor and Castiel kneels down beside me hesitantly.

"I'm not an archangel," I say weakly.

Castiel says quietly, "It explains the sigils on your ribs. Gabriel must have carved them there to protect you." A hysterical sound halfway between a laugh and a sob catches in my throat and Castiel looks startled. "Ariel?" He voices my name tentatively, as if I'm too good to address directly anymore, and still says it in that weird way where he stresses the _-el_. I guess now I know why: _-el_ means "of God."

"I-I don't...I _can't_-" My voice cracks as I attempt to convey the swirling mess of confusion and agony and _pain_ in my chest and hesitantly, Castiel places a hand on my cheek.

"Breathe." I inhale slowly, realizing that I hadn't been breathing for a while now when my chest aches at the sudden introduction of air to my lungs.

"I'm human," I insist shakily, "Just a regular, unimportant human."

"No one is unimportant," Castiel tells me and I vaguely remember that as a paraphrasing of a _Doctor Who_ quote. The observation has me chuckling weakly again and Castiel looks mildly worried for my sanity. "Ariel?" I shake my head, burying my face in my hands in an attempt to hold back the rising tears, and suddenly, I'm being pulled forward until Castiel's arms have wrapped around me.

"C-Cas?" I stammer weakly, struggling to hold myself together. He cards his fingers through my hair silently and I lose it. I press my face against the tan material of his trenchcoat and begin to cry helplessly. I can hear Castiel murmuring reassuringly to me in a foreign language, the words almost musical in sound. "Is that Enochian?" I ask him, my voice thick with tears, and he nods against the top of my head.

"Yes." He draws back from the embrace, looking hopeful. "Did you understand what I said?" I shake my head and he looks slightly disappointed. "Oh."

"I'm sorry," I offer even as I wipe my eyes.

"No, it's all right." He pauses. "We should tell the Winchesters."

"No!" I say quickly and Castiel looks surprised.

"Ariel, they should know-"

"No, they _can't_. They..." What exactly is holding me back from telling them, anyway? "All they've ever known from archangels is pain," I explain at last, wringing my hands. "I...I don't want them treating me any different. Like you do already."

Castiel looks chagrined. "I apologize, sister."

"See?! That's what I'm talking about!" I point at him accusingly. "I'm _not_ your sister! I'm _not_ an archangel! I'm just..." Just _what_? Everything I'd known of what I was had been a lie. "I'm just _me_," I finish weakly before adding, "You can't tell anyone. Promise me." Castiel hesitates. "Cas, _please_."

He finally nods reluctantly. "Yes." He clasps my hand with both of his, squeezing it reverently. "I promise." I want to cry again, but swallow back the lump in my throat as I settle for hugging him tightly in gratitude. He clutches me back, pressing his cheek against the top of my head.

I feel the invisible tug that signals angel-travel and let go of Castiel just in time for both of us to appear in the warehouse the Winchesters and I had originally gone to. Gabriel is trapped in a ring of fire, looking sullen, and Sam immediately scoops me up into a tight embrace. Somehow, I don't feel as enthusiastic about returning it, given what I've just learned.

"You okay? You hurt?" Sam sets me down and starts checking me over for any injuries.

"No, I'm okay, get off." I squirm away from his touch, earning a cross between a bitchface and hurt puppy eyes.

"Cas, you okay?" Dean asks, the closest he'll get to hovering like Sam is over me.

"I'm fine." Castiel turns to the archangel trapped in the ring of fire. "Hello, Gabriel."

"Hey, bro." Gabriel's tone is deeply sarcastic. "I never did ask, how _is_ the search for Daddy going? Let me guess. Awful." Castiel's expression becomes shuttered and newfound brother or not, I want to punch Gabriel.

"Okay, we're out of here. Come on." Dean turns on his heel and heads for the door. Squeezing my shoulder, Sam follows his brother, and Castiel and I go after them.

"Uh. Okay. Guys?" I try not to turn back and look at Gabriel as his tone becomes suddenly more nervous. "So what? Huh? You're just gonna leave me here forever?"

I stop at the doorway, as does Dean. The older Winchester turns back to glare at Gabriel.

"No. We're not, 'cause we don't screw with people the way you do. And for the record? This isn't about some prize fight between your brothers or some destiny that can't be stopped. This is about you being too afraid to stand up to your family." He pulls the fire alarm on the wall and the sprinkler system turns on, dousing the fire around Gabriel. "Don't say I never did anything for you." Dean pushes his way through the door after Sam and Castiel and I hesitate before doing the same. Gabriel watches me, a mournful expression flickering across his face.

"I can't," I answer his silent question weakly before turning and leaving the warehouse.

As I approach the Winchesters, who are quietly talking beside the Impala, I hear the tail end of Dean's sentence, "Right about now, I wish I was back in a T.V. show."

Sam quirks a wry smile. "Yeah, me, too." He squeezes my shoulder when I come to a stop next to him. "You good?"

I nod, ignoring the pointed look Castiel's giving me. "I'm good." Sam smiles and nods back, patting my shoulder once before he gets into the passenger seat. Dean's already in the driver's seat.

"Take care of yourself, Ariel," Castiel tells me quietly, squeezing my shoulder the same way Sam had before disappearing. Swallowing back the lump in my throat, I climb into the backseat of the Impala.

"So where did Gabriel send you, anyway?" Sam asks, turning to me, and I shrug.

"Cas and I just ended up in this empty room. Then we were in the warehouse again."

"The douchebag didn't say anything to you, did he?" Dean asks, glancing at me in the rearview mirror, and I shake my head after a moment's hesitation.

"No. Not a thing."

"You sure you're okay?" Sam frowns at me. "You look a little pale."

"I'm okay," I insist and, changing the subject, ask, "So what did he do to you after the sitcom?"

The topic is welcome, apparently, as Dean launches into an angry retelling of their side of the story. Sam still watches me worriedly the entire time, but I nod and ask Dean enough questions to reassure him that I'm okay, even if I feel like my entire world's crashing down on me.

* * *

**-prepares for the flames that normally accompany this kind of plot twist-**


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13  
**

* * *

_**Then:**_

_"The douchebag didn't say anything to you, did he?" Dean asks, glancing at me in the rearview mirror, and I shake my head after a moment's hesitation._

_"No. Not a thing."_

_"You sure you're okay?" Sam frowns at me. "You look a little pale."_

_"I'm okay," I insist and, changing the subject, ask, "So what did he do to you after the sitcom?"_

_The topic is welcome, apparently, as Dean launches into an angry retelling of their side of the story. Sam still watches me worriedly the entire time, but I nod and ask Dean enough questions to reassure him that I'm okay, even if I feel like my entire world's crashing down on me._

**_Now:_**

"Hey, Sam, can I borrow the laptop?" I ask as I enter the motel room. It's been a few days since T.V. Land, and my stomach still twists unpleasantly every time my mind decides to remind me of what I'd learned that day.

"Yeah, sure." Sam passes the laptop over and I suppress a flinch when our hands touch briefly. I can't get over the paranoia that Sam and Dean will piece together what Gabriel had told me, that they'd shove me away because of what I really am. That's why I waited this long to ask for the computer - so that Sam wouldn't suspect anything.

"Thanks." I take it back to the bed I'd claimed as mine. Dean would be taking the couch that night; we all take turns on who would take the couch and who would take the beds. Opening Google, I type in _archangel ariel_ and submit the search.

_525,000_ _results._

Careful not to let any expression show on my face so that Sam doesn't see, I open the first link, a Wikipedia article.

_**Ariel** (Hebrew: אריאל, Ari'el, Arael or Ariael) is an archangel found primarily in Jewish and Christian mysticism and Apocrypha. The name Ariel, "Lion of God" or "Hearth of God," occurs in the Hebrew Bible (Isaiah 29:1-7) as a personification of Jerusalem, but as the name of an angel the earliest source is unclear._

Well, at least Castiel had been right on the origin of my name, not that I had expected him to be wrong. There isn't much on the article, just an explanation of where else the name had been found in scripture. John Milton had used the name "Ariel" as a rebel angel in _Paradise Lost_, and the Book of Enoch had mentioned the name only in passing.

"You look upset," Sam notes and I quickly minimize the window, forcing a smile despite my frustration.

"Nah, just practicing on the virtual piano again. It gets annoying." Sam nods and goes back to poring over a book he had borrowed from Bobby, allowing me to open the next link, where there's a little more detail.

_Ariel is known as the angel of nature. She oversees the protection and healing of animals and plants, as well as the care of the Earth's elements (such as water, wind, and fire). She punishes those who harm God's creation. People sometimes ask for Ariel's help to: take good care of the environment and God's creatures (including both wild animals and pets) and to provide healing that they need, according to God's will (Ariel works with the archangel Raphael when healing)._

Being associated with the elements is pretty cool, and I've always liked animals. Raphael, I recall, had been the archangel to smite Castiel at the end of the fourth season of _Supernatural_ - which I guess hadn't been a real show after all, seeing as my entire life had been a lie. Raphael hadn't really seemed the "healing" type, but I guess war, angelic or not, has a way of changing people.

I wonder why the archangel Ariel had fallen from Heaven.

Clearing my browser history, I return the laptop to Sam, my mind churning with all the new information. Only minutes later, Dean bursts into the room.

"Just got a text from Chuck. We gotta go." Sam's on his feet immediately, packing his duffel bag quickly, and I'm slower to react, scrambling off the bed and slinging my backpack over my shoulder. Within ten minutes, we're on the highway.

* * *

It takes a day to get to the address Chuck had texted Dean. During the night, we take turns sleeping in the car while Sam and Dean alternate driving - Sam's only allowed to take the wheel when Dean almost passes out while driving - and my neck is killing me when we finally pull into the parking lot of the Pineview Hotel. I double-take at the multiple identical replicas of the Impala parked beside us when I get out.

"I think I'm in Heaven. The good kind, not the douchey kind." Dean follows my gaze and gapes at the cars.

"C'mon," Sam calls to us, waving us over to where we see Chuck pacing at the bottom of the steps to the hotel nervously. "Chuck! There you are!" The writer's head shoots up.

"Guys?!" He stares at me longest and I can feel the blood draining from my face when I remember that he's probably had a vision of me.

"What's going on?" Dean demands.

Chuck looks distinctly uncomfortable as he tears his pale eyes away from me. "Uhh, nothing. Just hanging around. What are you doing here?"

"You told us to come," I point out.

"No, I didn't." Chuck frowns.

"Uh, yeah, you did." Dean shows him the text.

"Life or death situation?" Sam adds, raising his eyebrows. "Any of this ringing a bell?"

"I didn't send that," Chuck protests.

"We drove all night!" Dean snaps. Clearly, those two hours of letting Sam drive had done nothing for his temper.

"I'm sorry, I don't understand what could..." Chuck pales. "Oh, no."

"SAM!" a shrill voice screeches and we all turn to see Becky - damn it, I thought we'd gotten rid of her for good - at the top of the steps. "You made it!" She bounds down the steps and wraps her arms tightly around Sam's waist. He stiffens and scowls at me warningly when I stifle a giggle.

"Becky, right?" he asks awkwardly.

"You remembered!" Becky pulls back, beaming. "You were thinking about me!" Her voice lowers conspiratorially. "It's okay, I can't get you out of my head either." Sam looks terrified.

"More like he was traumatized by the last time you two met," I mutter, earning a glare from her.

"Becky, did you take my phone?" Chuck accuses.

Becky doesn't bother looking chagrined. "I just borrowed it. From your pants."

Even Dean has to hold back a snort of laughter at that as Chuck sighs. "Becky..."

"What? They're going to want to see it!"

"See what?" Sam and Dean ask in unison and Becky squeals.

"Oh my God, I love it when they talk at the same time!"

"Hey Chuck?" A man with a clipboard appears at the top of the steps. "Come on pal, it's showtime."

"Guys, I'm sorry," Chuck apologizes weakly, turning to us as Becky runs into the hotel excitedly, "For everything."

"That's not ominous at all," I deadpan as we follow him up the steps. When we enter the hotel, which is done in a wilderness lodge motif, a large man walks past us with a can of beer.

"Hey, Dean, lookin' good," he calls to Dean, who blinks.

"Who the hell are you?"

"Duh, I'm Dean, too." Sure enough, he's dressed just like Dean, down to the golden amulet around his neck.

"...I think I'm _really_ in Heaven," I say when I realize where we are at last. Both Winchesters raise an eyebrow at me.

"Uh-oh. It's Sam and Dean. I'm in trouble now," a guy dressed up as a scarecrow laughs, waving his scythe mock-menacingly at us before walking away. Sam scowls after him before he and Dean begin looking around.

"It's a con, isn't it?" I guess, looking at Becky, who grins.

"It's _awesome_! A _Supernatural_ convention, the first _ever_."

Sam looks on the verge of murdering someone while Dean still looks completely confused.

* * *

The opening panel is, without a doubt, the most hilariously awkward thing I'd ever seen. Chuck stammers his way through fans' questions while Sam and Dean make sure to glare at him every step of the way, the murderous intent behind said glares increasing exponentially when Chuck reveals that he plans to start publishing _Supernatural_ again. The poor prophet is shaking by the time he gets offstage and the crowd disperses, eagerly chatting about future panels and the hunt that night.

We meet him in the bar later, where he's handing Becky a cocktail.

"So, I was wondering, uh...if you're not doing anything later..." he begins awkwardly, but Becky catches sight of Sam and beams widely.

"Hi, Sam!" I feel sort of bad for the poor author when he looks crushed.

Sam sighs. "Hi, Becky. Listen, can you excuse us?" Dean grabs Chuck's arm and yanks him over to a corner of the bar.

"In case you haven't noticed, our plates are kind of full, okay?" the older Winchester snarls, "Finding the Colt, hunting the Devil. We don't have time for this crap."

"Hey, I didn't call you!" Chuck protests.

"He means the books," Sam explains, scowling. "Why are you publishing more books?"

"Food? Shelter?" Chuck offers weakly.

"Who gave you the right to our lives?!" Dean snaps.

"An archangel, and I didn't want it!" At the mention of archangels, my stomach clenches with anxiety.

"Well, deal's off. No more books. Our lives are not for public consumption." Sam glances at Becky, who's listening to our conversation from her seat, uneasily before looking at Dean pointedly. Dean drops Chuck's arm, his jaw clenched, as the two walk away. Chuck rubs his arm, wincing, before looking at me nervously.

"So, um..."

"You saw it, didn't you?" I ask wearily and he nods reluctantly.

"Hard not to. Sorry."

"It's okay." I fiddle with the edge of my sleeve. "Don't tell them. Please."

"Wasn't going to, but you have to eventually, you know."

"I know," I agree, cold dread settling in my chest. A scream jolts me out of any response I might have added as I burst into a run, catching up with Sam and Dean in the hallway as we race up the stairs. A maid is crouched in the corner of the upstairs hallway.

Sam helps her up. "Are you okay?"

"I saw a ghost!" the maid exclaims.

A very deep, very _fake_ voice behind us says gruffly, "A ghost? Could you tell us what it looked like?" We turn around to see the same Dean cosplayer from earlier there, a thin man dressed similar beside him.

"A woman. She was in an old-fashioned dress. Really old. Like a school marm, or something?" The maid's anxiety is fading, clearly faked as well, and I'm starting to figure out what's going on here as she grins. "Okay, gather around, everybody, for a terrifying tale of terror. I saw...a ghost!"

I roll my eyes as the pieces come together. "This isn't real. C'mon." I tug at Sam and Dean's sleeves until they follow me away from the crowd.

"Oh, good, the LARP's starting," Becky says as she approaches us.

"LARP?" Dean asks, bewildered.

"Live action roleplaying," I mutter, earning weird looks. I huff. "Look, I was part of Anime Club in high school, my friends were all into it."

"...okay, ignoring that Ariel's a total dork, what's LARP?" Dean asks again.

"It's a game. The convention puts it on," Becky explains, rolling her eyes as she hands Sam a paper.

He reads, "'Dad's Journal: Dear Sam and Dean, this hotel is haunted. You must hunt down the ghost. Interview witnesses, discover clues, and find the bones. First team to do so wins a $50 gift card to Sizzler. Love, Dad.'"

"Is it bad that the only disturbing part is the 'love' at the end?" I ask plaintively as Dean raises his eyebrows at the fake note.

"You guys are soooo gonna win," Becky says delightedly.

I can feel a headache coming on. "You know what, screw you guys. I'm gonna use my fake ID for something useful."

* * *

'Something useful' amounts to sneaking a cocktail from the bar.

"You shouldn't be drinking," Chuck scolds weakly as he hops up on the bar stool next to me.

"It's been a hell of a week," I tell him frankly as I sip the fruity concoction. It doesn't taste half-bad, actually. "I've earned a drink or two." Chuck wrinkles his nose, but doesn't scold me anymore. "So, anything else you know about me?"

Chuck shakes his head. "All I know is that you fell from Heaven not long after Lucifer did and Gabriel left."

"Hm." I swirl the cocktail around, watching the orange liquid swishing towards me as I tilt the glass to take another sip. There's not much alcohol in it, but it's enough to make my head just a little fuzzy. "So my entire life...my parents, my friends, my _dog_...was that all a lie?" Poor Jonesy. She'd been a good retriever puppy, too.

"Seems that way." Chuck's eyebrows knit together in sympathy. "I'm sorry."

I smile wryly. "'Sorry' won't make them real." I feel like I should miss my old world more than I do, though. It's as if the sharp pain that should be there is already a dull ache, even though I know I haven't grieved at all yet - like I've already come to terms with the fact that this is my real world, where I truly belong, and that's a scary thought that I've assimilated so quickly.

Chuck pats me on the back lightly, stirring me out of my thoughts.

"For what it's worth, I really am sorry this is happening to you."

"It's okay. Not like you can control it." I give him a weary smile. "So am I gonna be in the new books?"

"If you want to be." Chuck gives me a tremulous smile in return. "I think the fans would like a female character. They'd end up living vicariously through you or something."

I shrug. "Just don't turn me into a Mary-Sue." Chuck's eyebrows furrow in confusion. "An all-around perfect character with essentially no personality? Think Bella from _Twilight_."

"Insult to writers everywhere, that woman," Chuck grumbles and I pat him on the back with a chuckle.

"Now you're getting it."

"Are you getting drunk?" Dean's hand snakes over my shoulder and snatches away my drink.

"Hey, that's mine!" I complain as he takes an experimental sip and his expression scrunches up in disgust.

"This _can't_ be alcoholic. Way too much fruit juice."

"No one's asking _you_ to drink it," I snap back, reaching for the glass.

"Mean drunk," Dean teases with a grin as he gives it back to me.

"I'm not even tipsy!" Well, I'm pretty sure that's a lie, seeing as my head's spinning at least a little.

"Of course not, sunshine." Dean rubs my shoulder patronizingly and glances up at Chuck. "Keep an eye on her, man. She gets into trouble easily."

"I heard." Chuck grins nervously and I shoot him a warning look. Thankfully, Dean thinks nothing of the comment and wanders further down the bar to flirt with the actress playing the ghost in the LARP.

"I swear, if Dean puts two and two together because of your not-so-subtle hints," I mutter.

"You _do_ have to tell them eventually," Chuck points out.

"Oh, and you saw that, did you?"

"As a matter of fact, I did." Well, that steals my thunder. "It...didn't go well. You waited too long to tell them, and I have to be honest, they kinda flipped out."

"They'd flip out no matter when I tell them," I sigh, "Look, they're still pissed about Gabriel, and I just...we all need some time before I'm ready to face any flipping out."

Chuck looks uneasy, but nods. "It's your call."

"It's my call," I agree, because no matter what the angels in Heaven say, destiny doesn't make the choices anymore.

* * *

**Gah, I'm like a day late with this chapter, I'd planned to do it yesterday but then writer's block hit and I have an exam on Monday, plus an exam the following Sunday. Ugh.**

**But here's the first part of _The Real Ghostbusters_, and hopefully I'll have the next chapter up within the next few days.**

**Reviews are nice. They're like warm hugs on a winter day. Share the wuv.**


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter**** 14**

* * *

_**Then:**_

_"You_ do _have to tell them eventually," Chuck points out._

_"Oh, and you saw that, did you?"_

_"As a matter of fact, I did." Well, that steals my thunder. "It...didn't go well. You waited too long to tell them, and I have to be honest, they kinda flipped out."_

_"They'd flip out no matter when I tell them," I sigh, "Look, they're still pissed about Gabriel, and I just...we all need some time before I'm ready to face any flipping out."_

_Chuck looks uneasy, but nods. "It's your call."_

_"It's my call," I agree, because no matter what the angels in Heaven say, destiny doesn't make the choices anymore._

**_Now:_**

An angry yell distracts me from my conversation with Chuck.

"For the last time I'm not making this up, okay?! She's upstairs, a real live dead ghost!"

"That's an oxymoron if I ever heard one," I note, draining the rest of my cocktail and moving down the bar to join Sam and Dean. Both of them are frowning in the direction of the commotion and I spot the source: one of the attendees of the convention.

His friend is trying to convince him to stay. "I'm sure it was just one of the ghost actors."

"Who beat the hell out of me and then vanished?!" he snaps back as Sam gets up, approaching them.

"You saw something?"

The younger man sneers at Sam. "This isn't part of the game, jerk." He turns back to his friend. "Look, I'm getting out of here and you should do the same."

"Alex, wait. Hey, come back!" His friend runs after him as he storms through the door.

Sam returns to us, his eyebrows furrowed. "What do you think?"

"I don't think that guy's a good enough actor to be acting," Dean says grimly.

"You think we might have a real case here?" I ask, looking between the two of them.

"One way to find out." Dean gets up from his seat and he and Sam head for the hotel's front desk. I follow them.

"Why, yes, agents Jagger and Richards," the manager is saying to a group of people in fake suits around him, "As manager of this fine establishment, I can assure you it is indeed haunted."

"Not exactly something they'd want advertised if it's true, is it?" I point out and Sam shrugs at me.

"Some people like the publicity." We wait for the manager to finish his spiel and for the crowd to move on before approaching the front desk. "Excuse us, mind if we ask you a few questions?" Sam asks.

"Look, I don't have time to play _Star Wars,_ guys. Go ask the guy in the ascot," the manager says irritably.

Dean takes out a fifty-dollar bill and slides it over. "Actually, we, uh..._really_ want to talk to you."

The manager eyes it greedily before pocketing it. "You guys are really into this," he notes.

"You have no idea," Sam says wryly.

"What do you want to know?"

"About this place being haunted, is it true?" I pipe up.

"We generally don't like to publicize this to, uh..._normal_ people...but yeah. 1909, this place was called 'Gore Orphanage'. Miss Gore killed four boys with a butcher's knife, then offed herself." I grimace at the thought.

"And is tonight really her anniversary?" Dean prompts.

"Yep. Guess your convention folks want authenticity."

"There been any sightings?" Sam raises an eyebrow.

"Yep, over the years. A few maids have quit saying they heard the boys or saw them. A janitor even saw Miss Gore once." The manager's beginning to frown.

"Where did Miss Gore carve up the kids?" Dean asks and the manager puts his foot down there.

"Look, I don't want you stomping all over the joint. A lot of this place is off-limits to nerds." Dean slides over another fifty without hesitation. "The attic," the manager supplies promptly.

Dean smiles cheerfully. "Thanks for your cooperation." He turns and heads for the staircase, gesturing for me and Sam to follow.

"Ugh, does this mean we've gotta root through a dusty old attic?" I groan and Sam gives me a sympathetic grin.

"Looks that way."

I wrinkle my nose. "I reserve the right to back out if my dust allergies start acting up." Sam only pats me on the back with a laugh as we follow Dean up the stairs.

* * *

I should have known that Sam's pat on the back was essentially a "no" to me staying behind. The instant I start sneezing as we crawl through the small passage to get to the attic, Dean only rolls his eyes while Sam shrugs at me.

"Sorry, Air, first rule of hunting is to work through whatever's slowing you down."

"I thought the first rule was to point, shoot, and God help you, don't miss," I echo Bobby's lessons grumpily, attempting to breathe through my now-stuffed nose.

"Okay, the _second_ rule's to work through weaknesses," Sam concedes as we enter the attic and are finally able to stand. I clap my hand over my nose and mouth just in time to stifle a sneeze. "Don't stifle," Sam scolds, "You're gonna burst a blood vessel."

I scrunch my face up and stifle another sneeze just to spite him, despite the fact that my eyes feel as though they're bugging out of my head. "You're being very contradictory."

"You two done?" Dean snips at us irritably as he sweeps the dusty room with the EMF, which whines loudly. "EMF's all over the place. Awesome."

"So we've got a real ghost and fake hunters poking at it," I summarize and then sneeze before I can stop myself. "Chu!"

"Bless you," Sam says automatically and I scowl at him, my temper already smoldering due to my persistent allergies.

"You of all people probably shouldn't bless someone." Dean snorts as he pockets the EMF and walks past us to search the rest of the attic, but I immediately regret the harsh comeback when Sam's expression flickers between surprise and hurt before closing off completely. He pushes past me to follow Dean and I try to ignore the gnawing guilt at the thoughtless comment in favor of trying to stifle another sneeze.

"My mommy loves me." I spin around and see the flickering form of a little boy huddled in the corner. I stumble back, scared by my first sight of a ghost (I swear, I am never going to make it as a proper hunter), and my back collides with Dean's chest. The older Winchester squeezes my shoulder reassuringly. "I said my mommy loves me," the boy insists. His hands are clasped over his head.

"I'm sure she does," Sam says quietly, taking a step towards the boy carefully.

"My mommy loves me this much!" The boy spreads his hands to show us just how much and then I see what his fingers had been hiding: a large bloody hole in his scalp where hair should have been. I press back against Dean with a short scream, startled, and the boy flickers out of sight.

Dean throws me an irritated look. "Jeez, Air, we could've gotten more out of him if you hadn't been such a chicken."

I grimace as more guilt is added to the growing weight in my chest. "Sorry," I say weakly, cheeks warming with embarrassment, and Dean just nudges my shoulder with a wry grin.

"Oh, well. C'mon. At least now we've got a lead." Sam's already ducked into the small passageway to leave the attic and Dean follows.

Casting a glance back at the empty corner where the scalped little boy had been, I go after the Winchesters.

* * *

Dean is on the phone, calling local historical societies for information on Leticia Gore, while Sam purposely tries to avoid Becky's leering gaze at the bar. I throw a warning glare at the fangirl, surprising her enough to make her stop staring at Sam, before taking a seat next to the younger Winchester.

"Hey." Sam ignores me. "Okay, now you're just being oversensitive."

One side of his mouth quirks humorlessly. "Well, you were _in_sensitive."

"True," I admit grudgingly even as my throat tightens uncomfortably. Damn it, I'm not going to cry just because someone else is angry with me, I'm not going to cry, I'm not - too late. My eyes are already stinging. "I'm sorry, okay? I didn't mean what I said."

"I know. It's okay. It's true, any-" Then Sam finally looks at me and his eyebrows shoot up. "Are you _crying_?" A smile slowly starts to form on his face. "What, did you think I'd be mad at you forever?"

That pretty much sums my expectations up. "Sorry," I mumble again, ducking my head and swiping at my eyes.

"Now who's oversensitive?" Sam's chuckling now, though, which I take as a good sign as he wraps an arm around my shoulders and tugs me against his side in a half-embrace. Honestly, it just makes me feel even worse. "Quit _crying_, Ariel, I said it's okay!"

"I _can't_!" I wail as I bury my face into his shoulder, and he just laughs harder.

"Oh, wow, I can't believe you thought I'd stay mad at you!"

"Fuck off!" I punch him half-heartedly.

"Is the kid PMSing or something?" Dean asks, bewildered, as he approaches us and I kick his leg, sniffling.

"Screw you, too!"

"Aww, that's adorable." Dean ruffles my hair and I smack his hand away. "Anyway, I just got off the phone with the County Historical Society. Not only did Leticia Gore butcher four boys, but one of them was her own son."

"The kid from the attic?" Sam asks and Dean nods.

"Yeah. According to the police at the time, she scalped the kid." He scowls. "I swear, I'm gonna deep-fry this bitch extra crispy."

"Can't do that if you don't know where she's buried," I point out, finally calming down enough to contribute.

"Yeah, exactly, the guy at the society didn't know, either." Dean's still sulking when I overhear a conversation from a nearby table.

"Check it out. There's the orphanage, here's the carriage house, and right there...cemetery." It's one of the LARPers, the tall skinny guy, and he's talking to the overweight Dean cosplayer. I nudge Sam and nod in their direction. Dean's already halfway to their table by the time we get up to join him.

"You think that's where Leticia's planted?"

"It's worth a shot."

Sam reaches the table before I do - damn his longer legs - and reaches out for the map.

"Hey, hey!" the skinny man protests.

"You mind?" the Dean cosplayer snaps as he snatches the map back.

"It's real," Sam informs Dean, "A century old, at least, and he's right, there is a cemetery on the grounds."

"Where'd you get that?" Dean demands, glaring at the LARPers.

"It's called a game, pal. It ain't called charity."

"Oh, don't be rude," I scold, "Where's the good sportsmanship?"

The man rolls his eyes at me. "You've never LARPed before."

Dean sighs. "Give me the map, Chuckles."

"Yeah, well, _you'r_e the Chuckles, Chuckles. Besides, Dean don't listen to nobody." The man looks pleased with himself as he reveals his plastic gun and I have to admit that seeing the vein in Dean's forehead ticking is worth it. The older Winchester pulls out his own real gun, gleaming silver in the light of the bar, before tucking it away again when we give him a warning look.

"Look, guys. We all wanna find the bones, right?" Sam attempts to pacify the startled LARPers, "We just thought...it would go faster if we all worked together."

The skinny guy hesitates. "Ahem. We..ah...we get the Sizzler gift card."

"Sure," Dean agrees, rolling his eyes.

"And we get to be Sam and Dean," the LARPer prompts. Sam and Dean look at each other with identical long-suffering expressions.

"Fine," Sam agrees and the LARPers both fistpump in success.

I'm starting to understand why Dean's so annoyed.

* * *

**This chapter's shorter than the others for a couple of reasons.**

**One: my brain is incapable of writing this episode for some reason, even though it's one of my favorites.**

**Two: I got into a fight with a wall today. The wall won and gave me a spectacular black eye, which is now swollen and painful to blink.**

**Three: I am traumatized by my discovery of the existence of Giovanna Plowman. Don't know who that is? Trust me, you don't _want_ to know. (But if for some reason you do and you don't plan to have an appetite for a long time, Google her name.)**

**Anyway, I'm going to leave it here and hopefully finish the episode in the next chapter. Review, please!**


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15  
**

* * *

_**Then:**_

_"Look, guys. We all wanna find the bones, right?" Sam attempts to pacify the startled LARPers, "We just thought...it would go faster if we all worked together."_

_The skinny guy hesitates. "Ahem. We..ah...we get the Sizzler gift card."_

_"Sure," Dean agrees, rolling his eyes._

_"And we get to be Sam and Dean," the LARPer prompts. Sam and Dean look at each other with identical long-suffering expressions._

_"Fine," Sam agrees and the LARPers both fistpump in success._

_I'm starting to understand why Dean's so annoyed._

**_Now:_**

"Hurry it up, Rufus, Bobby, Jo!" Damien - the Dean cosplayer, calls over his shoulder as we trudge over to the cemetery. On the way, I've learned his name and that the other guy's name is Barnes.

"Why do I have to be Jo?" I grumble, "I'm not even blonde."

"Just go with it," Sam advises quietly, rolling his eyes as Dean scowls at the LARPers' backs.

"So where were we?" Barnes asks Damien, who thinks for a moment.

"_Asylum_, right after Dr. Ellicott zapped your brain."

"Right, got it." Barnes clears his throat, rolling his shoulders before speaking in a low voice clearly meant to be an imitation of Sam's. "Why are we even here, Dean? You just following Dad's footsteps like a good little soldier? You that desperate for approval?"

"This isn't you talking, Sam," Damien replies in his attempt at Dean's voice.

Dean's shoulders are tense as his jaw clenches. Sam gives him a helpless look, as if begging him to keep his cool for a little longer.

"See, that's the difference between you and me. I got a mind of my own. I'm not pathetic." Ooh, I'd forgotten how many feels _Asylum_ had given me.

"So what are you going to do, Sam? Are you going to kill me?"

"Man, I am so sick of you telling me what to do."

Dean cracks. "All right, you know what? That's it. That is _it._"

"What's wrong, Bobby?" Damien turns back to us, frowning.

Dean's mouth opens and closes a few times; he's gone speechless in his anger. Finally, he retorts, "I'm not Bobby, okay?! You're not Sam!" He points at Barnes. "And _you're_ not Dean!" He gestures wildly at Damien. "What is _wrong_ with you?! Why in the hell would you choose to be these guys?!"

Barnes blinks, breaking character to reply, "Because we're fans. Like you."

"No. I am not a fan. In fact, I think that the Dean and Sam story sucks." I quietly mock-gasp in horror and whisper a "how dare you," which goes largely unnoticed aside from Sam's lips twitching slightly. "It is not fun. It is not entertaining. It is a river of _crap_ that would send most people howling to the nut-house. So you listen to me. Their pain is not for your amusement. I mean, do you think they enjoy being treated like circus freaks?!"

"Uh...I don't think they care, because they're _fictional characters_!" Damien snaps back.

"Oh, they care. Believe me. They care a lot." Dean storms past the LARPers, who give me and Sam bewildered looks.

"He, uh...he takes the story really seriously," Sam apologizes weakly before hurrying after Dean.

"Very emotionally involved," I add as I fall into step beside the LARPers. "So what are your favorite books?"

"Oh, we both like _All Hell Breaks Loose _best," Damien informs me with a shrug.

"So many feels," Barnes says solemnly, already looking teary at the memory, "Sam's death had me sobbing."

"Well, the author brought him back before the second series ended, at least," I point out as I see Dean glowering at me. An idea then occurs to me. "Hypothetically speaking, what would you guys think of a _Supernatural_ T.V. show?"

"Oh my God, I would _die_," Barnes says immediately, wide-eyed with delight, "Best idea _ever_."

"I'm gonna kill you, Ariel!" Dean threatens me over his shoulder and I cackle triumphantly.

* * *

When we reach the cemetery, I shiver and zip up my jacket. It's only the middle of October, but the weather's already turning sharply cold, and the cemetery is technically haunted, anyway. I have a right to get shivers down my spine.

It doesn't stop Dean from rolling his eyes and calling me a wuss, though.

"I found the four boys," Sam calls and we join him at the four small tombstones. There's only about seven or eight years between their dates of birth and dates of death and my heart breaks for the young boys.

"And here's Leticia Gore," Dean says, pointing his flashlight at the larger tombstone nearby. He then looks up at Damien and Barnes, who are tip-toeing around the edge of the cemetery. "Uhh...what are you guys doing?"

"We're looking for bones, genius," Damien answers while in character, "They've gotta be around here somewhere."

"Well, bones are usually in the ground," Dean retorts as Sam drops his bag to the ground and pulls out three shovels. He hands one to Dean and one to me before taking one for himself.

"Yeah, I know that, I just...wait, you guys are _serious_?" Damien's voice squeaks as he breaks character.

"Deadly," Dean says as he accepts the shovel from Sam and shoves it into the ground.

"We're not really digging up graves, you guys, we're just playing a game," Barnes protests.

"Welcome to _Supernatural_," I tell the LARPers cheerfully, "How may we traumatize you today?"

Sam snorts as he pushes his own shovel into the ground, tracing an outline of the plot for us to dig in.

"Trust us," Dean reassures Barnes and Damien, though his cold smile is anything but reassuring, "You wanna win the game, right?" They gulp, but nod.

* * *

My arms burn and my back aches by the time we're more than halfway done digging. Noticing my slowing progress, Sam easily picks me up and pushes me out of the hole before climbing out himself to ready the salt and kerosene so that we can salt and burn the bones as quickly as possible.

"Those are real," Damien says dumbly.

"Good for you, you can recognize real salt," Dean grumbles from inside the hole just as his shovel hits something wooden. "Bingo." He yanks open the casket and Damien gags.

"That's not a plastic skeleton. That's a...a _skeleton_ skeleton."

I bite my sarcastic remark back. "Yep."

"You just dug up a real grave," Barnes realizes.

"Yep," Dean echoes me.

"You guys are nuts."

Sam smirks. "Thought you guys wanted to be hunters."

"Hunters aren't real, man. This isn't real," Damien protests as he and Barnes turn to walk away.

"My God. You guys have seriously lost your grip on this-" Barnes turns back to us, but his eyes widen and he stops in his tracks.

Something cold brushes my arm and I turn to be faced with a translucent figure wearing a tattered old dress.

"Naughty, naughty!" she cackles and reaches for me as I yelp in surprise, stumbling and falling. My back hits the ground hard and I scramble for the container of salt. It topples into the grave instead, covering the skeleton with white crystals. Well, at least half the job is done. I can hear Damien and Barnes screaming as they turn and run away.

Sam rushes around the hole we'd dug to get to me, but Leticia Gore backhands him, sending him sprawling to the ground. Then I'm met with an icy sensation spreading through my body as the ghost plunges a hand into my chest. The cold quickly dissolves into pain and I scream, shutting my eyes. Then Leticia Gore screams, too, and blazing warmth replaces the cold before the only sensation I feel is the sharp wind against my slightly-damp face.

"Air?" Sam's at my side, lifting me into a sitting position as I gasp for air, leaning against him. "You okay?" He rubs my back gently as I nod, burying my face into his shoulder. Dean's standing at the edge of the grave, the skeleton inside smoldering away - he must have burned the bones while the ghost had gone after me.

Dean looks up at where Damien and Barnes are cowered on the other side of the cemetery, trembling. He smiles coldly at them. "Real enough for you?"

Damien whimpers.

* * *

"Quit coddling her, Sam," Dean scolds as Sam squeezes my trembling shoulders for the tenth time since we'd reentered the hotel. We're with the LARPers at the bar, Damien and Barnes tossing back shots to cope with what they'd just seen while I simply huddle against Sam's side, shaken by my own ordeal. I can still feel the ghost's freezing hand in my chest, and I shudder again. Sam holds me tighter. "If she's gonna learn to hunt, she's gotta get used to these things."

"Give her a break, Dean," Sam says quietly as he shifts so that I can press my face into his side. He grins then. "I seem to recall that you were the same when a ghost decided to play Operation with you for the first time."

I can't suppress a giggle as Dean stammers for a few seconds before retorting weakly, "Doesn't count, I was like, ten."

"It totally counts, so cut the kid some slack." Still, the story's got me feeling better, so I let Sam hold me for just a few more seconds before I sit upright again.

"Can we go now?"

"Sure. Round's on us, guys," Dean tells Damien and Barnes, who just stare at him blankly as we get up and head for the door. "Hey, Chuck, good luck with the Supernatural books and screw you very much," the older Winchester adds as we pass Chuck on the way out and I do my best to give the startled prophet a silent apology and a tired smile before we reach the doors.

Sam pushes on the handle, but the door doesn't open. Frowning, he moves to the other one, but it doesn't open, either.

"I feel like we've just stepped into a horror film," I say, my stomach sinking.

"Welcome to _Supernatural_, how may we traumatize you today?" Dean echoes my earlier words with a wry grin before trying the doors himself. They don't move.

"Can we panic?" I suggest.

"Not yet." Sam tries to open a nearby window, but it doesn't budge. "Every exit's locked. Like..."

"Like something's keeping us in," Dean says grimly and knocks on the window, frustrated.

"Panic _now_?" I say plaintively. Even if they say "no," the freaking out is setting in already.

"Yeah, panic now." Sam pats me on the shoulder absently as he looks at Dean. "This is bad."

"You think, Sammy?" I didn't know Dean could bitchface until now.

Suddenly, a woman screams and I groan as we begin running upstairs, towards the source of the sound.

"Not another ghost!"

"Sorry, Air." Sam gives me an apologetic look as the actress from earlier runs out of the library, looking over her shoulder. Dean catches her before she can run into us.

"Don't go in there!" she wails, her makeup streaking down her cheeks due to her tears.

"Get downstairs," Dean tells her, nudging her towards the stairs, "Go, go!" She runs downstairs and bracing myself, I follow the Winchesters into the library, sticking close to Sam's back.

"Why'd you do that? Why did you send my mommy away?" I peek around Sam to see the little scalped boy - Leticia Gore's son - frowning at us.

"Uh, maybe because of the high and tight she gave you, huh? How 'bout a little thanks?" Sam glares at Dean and clears his throat. "What? I mean a little gratitude might be nice once in a while."

"My mommy didn't do this to me." The little boy's eyebrows furrow even more, this time in confusion.

"What? Then who did?" Sam asks, but the boy flickers and disappears.

"Do all ghosts just give cryptic phrases and disappear?" I ask wearily.

"Usually," Dean sighs, but the moment of peace is broken by someone else screaming, this time a male voice.

"Oh, for the love of-!" I groan as we follow the source, but all complaints die in my throat when I see the limp body sprawled on the floor. It's one of the convention attendees - I remember him from the opening panel, dressed as the Hookman and speaking with a heavy German accent. His head is scalped, just as Gore's son's had been, and I shut my eyes, unable to look anymore.

"Son of a bitch," Dean mutters, "We've gotta get to Chuck, make sure no one leaves the auditorium."

"I'm on it." Sam squeezes my shoulder. "C'mon, Ariel." I'm relieved to be away from the body as I follow Sam down to the auditorium. I wait backstage as he runs over to Chuck, who's wrapping up the panel, and whispers something into the prophet's ear.

"Holy crap," Chuck says in shock, earning gasps from the audience.

Sam covers the microphone before mumbling, "Life or death situation, Chuck, you've gotta keep everyone safe in here."

"For how long?"

"Long as it takes. Figure something out. Ariel's gonna be backstage, if you need help." Sam rejoins me backstage. "You gonna be okay here?"

"Yeah, I will. Just be careful." I hug him tightly and he squeezes my shoulders in return gently.

"I will." He leaves the auditorium and I settle in for Chuck's unexpectedly-extended panel.

"So, uh, good news. I got much more to tell you...I guess." The prophet throws me a helpless look. "For the next series, I've, um...got a co-writer, and I'd like to introduce her to you."

_What_?

"Please, uh...give it up for Ariel Evans." The amount of applause that greets me as I join Chuck onstage is startling, and I can see Becky scowling at me from the front row. Oh, God, there's over a hundred people there. I think I'm going to be sick.

I swallow back the nausea as I take my place at Chuck's side. "What're you doing?" I hiss at him through gritted teeth.

"Sorry," he mumbles, "Just play along."

"Yeah, yeah, okay." One of the convention helpers hands me a wireless microphone. "Um, hi, I'm Ariel. So I guess if you guys have questions for me, feel free to shoot." A ton of hands shoot up and I'm only relieved that this'll keep us occupied while Sam and Dean get rid of the other ghosts. "Uhh, you with the fez." I point randomly.

"Are you even old enough to be a writer?" Fez-Guy demands, raising an eyebrow at me.

"What age is a writer supposed to be?" I ask, bewildered by the rude question, "I'm almost nineteen years old, and I've had that long to learn the English language. I think I'm qualified to write." Chastised, the guy sits down and ten hands go down with him. I guess they'd all planned on asking me the same question. "Okay, let's take another question. Anyone?" Becky's hand waves violently. "Anyone _other_ than the creepy Sam-stalker?" I beg, but no one else seems to want to take their chances. I sigh. "Fine, go ahead, Becky."

She stands, scowling at me. "What makes you so special that you get to co-write the _Supernatural _series? What're you gonna bring to it that no one else can?"

Actually, that's a good question. Chuck's retreated offstage, so I'm pretty much alone there. "Um...well, Chu - _Mr. Edlund_ and I have collaborated to create a much more realistic view on _Supernatural_ that I don't think you guys have seen yet in the books." I'm pulling words out of thin air at this point. "Sam and Dean are _people_, not idolized heroes who can do no wrong. They make mistakes, they have emotions, and they're _human_. They deserve to be treated as such, and we plan to bring that into their personalities. I'm more of a developer, so I'll be adding more to their characters." I point at the scarecrow cosplayer.

"So does that mean you know everything about Sam and Dean?"

I concede, "I guess I know a lot about them. Within reason." Hey, living with them does have its upside: I've learned most of their habits and quirks.

That seems to be the magic answer, because at least twenty female hands shoot up, Becky's included. Oh, _hell_, I know where this is going.

"No, I don't know how big their man-parts are. Jeez, you crazy women, I said 'within _reason_.'" The hands all go down again, accompanied by groans of disappointment.

"What's Dean's favorite song?" a lanky guy about as tall as Sam asks.

That's easy; Dean sings it off-key every single time we're in the Impala. "_Ramble On_, Led Zep. He's totally tone-deaf, but he sings it at full volume in the car, anyway."

A girl wearing plaid raises her hand. "Does Sam still have demon blood in him because the yellow-eyed demon fed it to him as a baby?"

"Yeah, he does, and in the next series, um..." I glance at Chuck offstage, who shrugs, giving me permission to reveal details. "The demon blood's gonna have a pretty big role."

The questioning goes on for another twenty minutes, the queries ranging from the mind-numbingly stupid ("Like, why does Sam, like, never cut his hair?") to actually pretty good ("I don't understand why Dean sold his soul for Sam in _All Hell Breaks Loose_. I mean, their dad did the same thing for him, didn't he know what that would do to Sam?"). I answered them like I would have back in my old world, hoping that would be enough and praying my answers wouldn't somehow get back to Sam and Dean. Some things are _really_ sensitive to them, and the demon blood and deals are definitely in that category.

Eventually, I've talked myself hoarse and Chuck comes to my rescue.

"So, uh, who'd like to know more about the upcoming series?" I retreat offstage, grabbing a bottle of water from a refreshment table and draining half of it in one gulp as I listen to Chuck stumbling his way through the rest of the panel. "What does the future hold for Sam and Dean? Well, how do you feel about angels?" My heart stops. "Yeah, because let me tell you, they're not nearly as lame as you think."

_He's not talking about you, calm down_, I scold myself, trying to relax again as I drop into a nearby chair. Still, now that angels have been mentioned, my senses are on hyper-alert. What if Chuck lets it slip somehow and Sam and Dean hear it? What if they hate me for keeping the whole archangel-thing from them? Chuck had said they would flip out, but would it be now or later?

Damn, I hate prophecies. They're too complicated.

* * *

Half an hour of Chuck's awkward answers and the audience is getting bored. The hotel manager heads for the door at one point.

"Uh, sir, you can't leave, please," Chuck stammers and I frown as I get to my feet, heading for the back of the auditorium to stop the manager. I'm too late; the manager breaks the salt line Sam and Dean had placed there and opens one of the doors. One of the ghost boys flicker into view, holding a rusty knife, and the audience screams as they all get up, scrambling back.

Chuck jumps off the stage and gets there before I do, dissipating the ghost with an iron bar and slamming the door shut. "I said nobody leaves, damn it! Someone salt this door!" I find the salt container the Winchesters had left behind and close the salt line once more. When I straighten, Becky's looking at Chuck with a predatory smile, just as she had once stared at Sam. What's worse, Chuck seems to notice her look, grinning dopily.

Oh, no.

"Okay, Romeo, back to the stage with you," I mutter, shoving the prophet's shoulder lightly. He blinks at me bemusedly before heading back to the stage. "Everyone calm down and get back to your seats!" I yell over the din of people talking worriedly. They scramble to obey, looking terrified. "We're just having a little ghost trouble, we'll get back to you momentarily!"

A few shaky laughs come from the people who clearly don't believe me. Well, good for them. Let them stay oblivious. I stay at the door so that no one else attempts to escape and break the salt line again.

Finally, blessedly, there's a muffled knock on the doors. I don't open them yet, though.

"Air, it's us," Dean says through the doors and I tug them open.

"We're done?"

"We're done," Sam confirms.

"Awesome. Hey, people!" I call, interrupting Chuck's random monologue about his lost virginity at sixteen (people look relieved at the interruption). "You're home free!" I dodge the stampede of people escaping and Sam tugs me out of the way.

"By the way, thanks for not telling them our dick sizes," Dean snarks at me and I make a face at him.

"I should've just given them a really small measurement for yours." He scowls back at me.

"There are some things none of us should know about each other," Sam tells his brother dryly and I can't help but laugh.

* * *

There are emergency vehicles and people in shock blankets everywhere. I'm half-tempted to quote the ending of _A Study in Pink_ from _Sherlock_, but Becky's dramatic conversation with Sam is far more entertaining.

"We had undeniable chemistry. But like a monkey on the sun...it was too hot to live. It can't go on. Chuck and I, we found each other. My yin to his proud yang. And, well, the heart wants what the heart wants. I'm so, so sorry."

Chuck looks less apologetic. "Yeah. Sorry, Sam." He's grinning widely.

"Will you be all right?" Becky asks worriedly.

Sam bites the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing as he forces a miserable expression. "Honestly, I don't know. I'll just have to find a way to keep living, I guess."

"Bless you, you kind soul." Becky reaches up and pats Sam's cheek, earning a snort from me.

"Anyway, Chuck, if you really wanna publish more books, I guess that's okay with us," Sam tells Chuck.

"Really?" Chuck's eyes widen.

"No, not really." Sam's smile drops and his eyes narrow dangerously. "We have guns and we will find you."

"Shame, I was looking forward to co-writing the books," I deadpan and Sam's glare turns on me. Damn, sometimes I forget how scary he can be.

"Okay, no more books," Chuck agrees immediately.

"See you around." Sam squeezes my shoulder even as he turns and starts walking away. "C'mon, Air."

"Just a sec," I tell him even as Becky runs past me, calling for him. "Hey, um, thanks for not telling them," I mumble to Chuck, who gives me a weak smile.

"No problem."

I shuffle nervously. "Out of curiosity, um...what else do you know about the archangel?"

Chuck frowns. "She _is_ you, you know."

"I know." And the thought of that just makes my stomach twist uncomfortably.

"Well, I don't know where your Grace is, but it's definitely not on Earth. Someone would've found it if that were the case. And you, um...you didn't just fall."

"What do you mean?" I frown.

"I mean Michael _cast_ you down and took your Grace from you. Whatever you did...it must have been awful."

That really doesn't make me feel better.

"Ariel, let's go!" Sam calls and I turn to see him heading over to the Impala, telling Dean something excitedly.

"Thanks, Chuck," I tell the prophet wearily, "For everything."

He pats my shoulder. "Take care, Ariel. I'm sorry you have to go through this."

"Mm." I nod and walk past Becky with a mumbled "later" in her direction, joining Sam and Dean at the car. "What's gotten your panties in a twist?" I ask.

"We've got a lead on the Colt," Sam informs me with a grin. "Becky just told me, apparently Bela Talbot didn't give it to Lilith. She gave it to a demon named Crowley."

"So now we've gotta find Crowley," I guess.

"It's the only chance we've got right now," Dean agrees, "I mean...it's a plan, right?"

"It's a plan." I force a smile as I get into the backseat. The Winchesters climb into the front and Dean starts up the car. Impulsively, I say, "Hey, guys?"

"Yeah?" Sam looks back at me, raising an eyebrow as Dean glances up at me through the rearview mirror.

_I'm a fallen archangel. I should have told you sooner. I'm sorry. Please help me_. The words are right there, but they die on the tip of my tongue when I look back up at the Winchesters. They've got enough on their plates to worry about. "Nothing. Never mind." Dean shrugs, dismissing my weirdness as he flips on the radio. Thankfully, it's Led Zeppelin and Dean's off-key belting of _Ramble On_ distracts Sam from questioning me further.

I sink back against the seat, both relieved and disappointed in myself at the same time.

* * *

**You know, I was going to have this done three hours ago. But then I accidentally the Sabriel tag on Tumblr and had many feels.**

**So that's the end of _The Real Ghostbusters_ - thank God, as much as I love this episode, it was killing me to write it - and next comes _Abandon All Hope_. Now if _Changing Channels_ is my all-time favorite episode due to its hilariousness, _Abandon All Hope_ is my all-time favorite episode due to the amount of feels. So I'm looking forward to writing that.**

**Please leave reviews, and let me know how you're feeling about the story!**


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

* * *

_**Then:**_

_"It's the only chance we've got right now," Dean agrees, "I mean...it's a plan, right?"_

_"It's a plan." I force a smile as I get into the backseat. The Winchesters climb into the front and Dean starts up the car. Impulsively, I say, "Hey, guys?"_

_"Yeah?" Sam looks back at me, raising an eyebrow as Dean glances up at me through the rearview mirror._

I'm a fallen archangel. I should have told you sooner. I'm sorry. Please help me._ The words are right there, but they die on the tip of my tongue when I look back up at the Winchesters. They've got enough on their plates to worry about. "Nothing. Never mind." Dean shrugs, dismissing my weirdness as he flips on the radio. Thankfully, it's Led Zeppelin and Dean's off-key belting of Ramble On distracts Sam from questioning me further._

_I sink back against the seat, both relieved and disappointed in myself at the same time._

**_Now:_**

The plus of tracking a demon is that we get to see Castiel a lot more often. Sam and Dean call him almost immediately after we leave the Pineview hotel, informing him to listen for any news on Crowley and his current location. Over the next few weeks, Castiel calls and pops in on us with updates and no leads. I find myself scared that he'll give something away to the Winchesters about my true identity, but he remains silent about the entire situation, only nodding to me whenever he appears in the room and I happen to be there.

Finally, after about a month of waiting, Castiel catches a lead. We're in the Impala at the time, so Dean veers off the road and parks on the lakeside before he continues the conversation with Castiel.

"Going down?" he echoes something Castiel says before adding, "Right. Okay, Huggy Bear, just don't lose him."

I mouth "Huggy Bear?" at Sam, who grins back at me and shakes his head. Dean's not-so-secret flirting with Castiel is bordering on adorable.

Dean waits for a few moments before replying, "That's okay, you did great. We'll take it from here." He closes the phone and turns to us. "Cas got his address. We're gonna need a little help getting in, though, the place is layered in Enochian warding."

"Which means angelic help's out of the question," I point out.

"Well, we've got human friends, too," Dean reminds me, pulling out his phone and dialing a number. I frown at Sam, who shrugs back at me; he has no idea who Dean is calling, either. "Hey, Ellen, it's Dean." Sam looks relieved and I raise an eyebrow, mouthing "Harvelle?" at him. He nods back to me. "Yeah, it's good to hear from you, too. Listen, we're tracking this demon, but we need help getting in to see him. You think you or Jo could-?" He breaks off. "Yeah, no, we're not far from there. Thing is, we've got this kid with us and we can't really bring her along, and-"

"Wait a second," I protest, "I'm coming, too."

Dean waves me off as he listens to Ellen's reply. "She talks too much, if that's what you mean." I gape at him, insulted, and punch Sam when the taller Winchester looks to be on the verge of laughter. "Awesome. We can get there in a couple of hours." He ends the call. "Jo's coming with us. We can drop Ariel off with Ellen at Bobby's and pick up Jo there before heading over to Crowley's."

"Why can't I come?" I demand.

"Have you _seen_ the way you hunt?" Dean retorts, "I'm surprised you haven't gotten yourself killed yet."

I scowl at him and cross my arms. "I'm not talking to you anymore."

"Oh, _there's_ a loss," Dean mutters as he opens the driver's side door again.

I look to Sam for support, but he just shrugs. "In his own way, he's got a point, Air. You're safer with Bobby and Ellen than us right now."

"I'm not talking to you, either," I tell him, turning my nose up as I get into the car and determinedly focus on the window.

"Come on, Ariel, we're sorry," Sam attempts to placate me.

"Shh, Sam, it's blessed silence," Dean scolds his brother, and that just makes me even more annoyed, so I brandish my middle finger at them.

* * *

My irritation only abates when we pull up to Singer Salvage Yard and meet the Harvelles. I break my vow of silence to greet Ellen and Jo, both of whom shake my hand firmly. Jo is tall and slim and pretty, with golden hair that's about as long as mine and mischievous dark eyes, and Ellen has brown hair and kind brown eyes. It's been a while since I've seen Bobby, the last time being my first case with Patrick the witch, and I hug the older hunter almost immediately when we enter the house.

Ellen laughs. "You're taking that hug like a champ, Bobby." Bobby grumbles incoherently as he awkwardly pats my back and I know I'm definitely going to like Ellen.

Jo, Sam, and Dean prepare to leave almost immediately and I grudgingly set aside my anger at the Winchesters long enough to say goodbye to them.

"Bye, Air," Sam says.

"Goodbye, Samuel." Okay, so maybe I'm still a little mad. Sam looks hurt, so I punch him in the shoulder. "Watch your back, Sasquatch." That finally earns a genuine grin from him as he ruffles my hair and heads for the Impala. I turn to Dean. "Damn it, you don't even have a full name for me to use angrily."

Dean smirks. "Sucks to be you." He wraps an arm around my shoulders and squeezes me in a brief embrace. "See you soon, kid."

"Be careful." I hug him back before he heads for the Impala.

"It was nice meeting you," Jo says warmly to me, shaking my hand one last time before she gets into the backseat of the Impala. They drive off, and only then do I scowl again.

"Can't believe they left me behind."

"Join the club," Ellen tells me wearily, "Apparently, Mom coming along's not cool enough for Jo." She claps my shoulder. "C'mon, let's get lunch ready before Bobby forgets to feed himself." I can't help but laugh at Bobby's protests that he "would never, how dare you accuse me of that, woman" as we head back into the house.

* * *

It's about seven in the evening when they call us with good news: they had gotten the Colt from Crowley.

"_Actually, it's more like he just gave it to us_," Sam tells me with a chuckle, "_He wants Lucifer dead about as much as we do_."

"That's not suspicious at all," I note.

"_It's better than having to fight him for the Colt. We're on our way back now, we should be there around nine._"

"Okay, we'll be expecting you." I hang up and relay the news to Ellen and Bobby.

At around a quarter to nine that night, there's a knock on the door and Ellen goes to let the triumphant hunters in. Soon, Bobby and Sam are seated around a table, taking apart the Colt and studying the bullets inside while Dean calls Castiel to "get his feathery ass over here so we can figure out what to do."

"Crowley says Lucifer's in Carthage, which means we have to get over there as soon as possible," Sam's saying when I join him and Bobby at the table, "Like, _tomorrow_."

"Tomorrow?" My eyebrows shoot up. "So we're going to be up against Satan _tomorrow_?" Damn it, I haven't even had time to write out my will yet.

"The sooner, the better," Bobby agrees.

"Do we even have a plan?" I ask.

"Sure, take the gun and shoot him in the head," Dean replies, coming back from the kitchen with Castiel in tow.

"Good plan. Oh, hey, Cas." I wave at the angel, who nods back in greeting politely.

"Hello, Ariel."

"So it's our last night on Earth, huh?" Ellen says as she plunks a bottle of whiskey down on the table, along with a couple of shot glasses.

Somehow, it turns into a drinking competition between Ellen and Castiel. Dean and Sam research in the study while we're all in the kitchen, watching the game. Ellen tosses back five shots easily.

"Beat that, big boy." She grins at Castiel, who blinks and downs all five of his shots without batting an eye.

He smiles slightly at our stunned looks. "I think I'm starting to feel something." He then looks confused as we all burst out laughing and Jo turns back to the fridge to rummage for a beer. I've been denied any alcohol due to the fact that I'm underage - "Oh, come on, Ellen, I'll be responsible, it's my last night on Earth!" "Don't make me go 'mama bear' on your scrawny ass, girl!" - so I simply settle for watching Castiel throw back five more shots. He looks briefly dizzy, but snaps out of it just as quickly.

Dean enters the kitchen then, beelining for Jo, and I can't help but grin when she outright rejects any advances he makes. Dean sulks his way back to the study while Jo winks at me.

"And that's how you get shit done."

"You're awesome." I high-five her.

"Everybody get in here!" Bobby calls from the living room. "It's time for the lineup. Usual suspects in the corner."

"Bobby, no one wants their picture taken," Ellen groans as she heads for the living room and we follow her.

"Hear, hear," Sam agrees.

"Shut up. You're drinking my beer."

"I'll take the picture," I volunteer, but Bobby shakes his head at me.

"Don't be stupid, girl, you're in the picture."

I freeze, my hand halfway towards the camera. "What?"

"You're suffering with us on this one," Sam tells me with a grin as he stands next to Dean. Castiel awkwardly stands on Sam's other side while Ellen and Jo settle beside Castiel.

"Seems more like a group thing, I'll just-" I begin awkwardly.

"Oh, get over here, midget," Dean snaps, but his expression's goodnatured as he adds, "You're one of us, too, y'know."

"Oh." I flush and finish helping Bobby set up the tripod and timer before moving to stand in front of Sam and Castiel. I feel Sam's hand rest on one shoulder while Castiel's hand squeezes my other shoulder. Bobby wheels backwards until he's in front of Castiel and Ellen.

"Anyway, I'm gonna need something to remember your sorry asses by," he grumbles.

"Always good to have an optimist around," Ellen teases and we all grin, preparing for the picture.

The camera flashes and then Castiel chooses to speak quietly, "Bobby's right. Tomorrow we hunt the Devil. This is our last night on Earth." Our smiles fade, but not because the picture's been taken.

* * *

I escape from the continuing drinking competition - it's now Jo versus Dean, and so far, Jo's winning - and sit outside on the porch, drawing my jacket around myself tightly to ward off the late night chill.

Tomorrow, we're going to Carthage, Missouri, and we're going to face down Satan himself. Holy crap, why had this become my life? Oh, yeah, because a snarky undersized archangel thought it would be a good idea to yank me out of my _real _life and shove me here.

"Hello, Ariel." I look up to see Castiel hovering awkwardly behind me. "May I join you?" I nod and shift over slightly to allow him space to sit down next to me. Despite all the alcohol he'd had, he looks completely sober and unrumpled.

"You sure you're not drunk?" I tease him.

"I was starting to feel something after that tenth shot-" I gape at him. "-but that feeling passed about an hour ago." He shrugs.

"Angels," I grumble and he smiles faintly.

"You are technically included in that category."

Any retort I have dies in my throat. "Yeah, I keep forgetting." I drop my gaze to my knees, fiddling with a loose thread on my sleeve.

"That is understandable. You're still coming to terms with it," Castiel notes quietly, placing his elbows on his knees and leaning on them heavily.

"Well, it's not like I can just turn the switch between human and angel on. I've spent about eighteen years thinking I'm one thing when I turn out to be something else entirely." Castiel nods. "And why's it so easy for you to accept, anyway? You barely know me." He raises an eyebrow. "Well, this me, anyway," I amend with a sheepish grin.

"I recognized you as something other than what you claimed to be the day I met you," he admits.

"Oh." My wonderful vocabulary strikes again. Impulsively, I ask, "What was I like before?"

Castiel pauses and I wonder if I've hit a sensitive topic. "I'm sorry," he says at last, "I just...it's been a long time." I wait patiently, but it's not long before he continues, "All fledglings - young angels - are assigned to a certain archangel when they are brought into being. I was assigned to you."

"You were?"

He nods. "You were a good caretaker, warm and kind, and you had such beautiful silver wings. I was always envious of them when I was younger." He glances over my shoulder, as if trying to imagine those wings on me now, before shaking his head, turning his eyes upwards. I follow his gaze up and a few stars twinkle lazily back at us from the black expanse of sky. "Things were simpler back then. But after Lucifer fell and Gabriel left...I knew it would not be long before I lost you, too. And I did."

The mournful tone to Castiel's voice has me shuffling closer until my knee bumps his. He turns back to me, his eyebrows furrowed slightly.

"I don't remember what I did for Michael to cast me down," I begin quietly, "But whatever it was, I wish I hadn't done it. So that I didn't have to leave you."

Castiel's eyes widen slightly in surprise before he smiles and tentatively places a hand on my shoulder. "Thank you, sister." He then grimaces. "My apologies, I forgot-"

"Actually, Cas," I interrupt him, "I don't really mind."

The answering smile I receive is almost blinding in the darkness.

* * *

**I know, I know, it's a short chapter. But it just seemed fitting to end it here and continue _Abandon All Hope _in the next chapter. And since this one's so short, I figured I'd upload it the same day as the previous chapter. Hopefully, I'll have the next one up sometime during Tuesday -hums _Heat of the Moment _shamelessly-.**

**"Yesterday was Tuesday, but today is Tuesday, too!"**

**That being said, please review!**


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

* * *

_**Then:**_

_The mournful tone to Castiel's voice has me shuffling closer until my knee bumps his. He turns back to me, his eyebrows furrowed slightly._

_"I don't remember what I did for Michael to cast me down," I begin quietly, "But whatever it was, I wish I hadn't done it. So that I didn't have to leave you."_

_Castiel's eyes widen slightly in surprise before he smiles and tentatively places a hand on my shoulder. "Thank you, sister." He then grimaces. "My apologies, I forgot-"_

_"Actually, Cas," I interrupt him, "I don't really mind."_

_The answering smile I receive is almost blinding in the darkness._

**_Now:_**

The next day dawns cold and gray. It's barely light outside by the time I'm being jostled around.

"C'mon, midget." I'm on my feet even before I'm coherent and for a brief second, I wonder if I'd fallen asleep standing up. It wouldn't be surprising; we'd all only gone to bed at about three in the morning, earning ourselves only three hours of sleep. Then I realize that Dean's got his hands on my shoulders, keeping me upright. "Up and at 'em, we're leaving in an hour."

"Can I wake up first?" I complain, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes as he lets go. I stumble for the doorway and smack into the wall. "Friggin' wall!" I'm pretty sure I can hear Dean and Jo laughing and surprisingly, the low rumble of Castiel's chuckle as well. "Oh, shut up," I snap in their general direction, wincing as I rub my forehead. At least the impact's woken me up fully.

By the time I finish brushing my teeth, showering, and changing into worn jeans and a dark blue long-sleeved shirt, the sounds of sizzling eggs and bacon can be heard from upstairs. When I enter the kitchen, I see that Ellen's taken over one frying pan, which holds scrambled eggs, while Dean holds another pan containing bacon.

"How's the head?" he teases over his shoulder as I take a seat between Jo and Sam.

"May all your bacon burn," I grumble and Dean looks offended.

"Woman, that's the worst curse you could give someone."

"It's fake and it's from an anime movie. You'll live," I deadpan, rubbing my still-bruised forehead. Ellen slides a platter of scrambled eggs onto the table and Jo, Sam, Bobby, and I grab plates, loading them with eggs. Dean serves up the bacon next, which I pass on while everyone else takes a helping.

"First you curse my bacon and now you're too good for it?" Dean complains.

I make a face at him. "You know I'm a vegetarian."

"Even Sam eats meat and he's basically a rabbit!"

Sam rolls his eyes. "Hey, it's good that she's eating healthy." It doesn't stop him from eating a strip of bacon, though. I settle for just eggs and even manage to cajole Castiel into trying some bacon.

He says in surprise after his first bite, "It's good." The pleased look on Dean's face is priceless.

We prepare to leave as soon as we're done eating and cleaning the dishes. Bobby wheels up to the door to see us off and I wait for the Harvelles to finish hugging him - despite his vehement protests - before hugging him myself, squeezing his shoulders.

"Be careful, kid," he mutters against my shoulders, returning the embrace gently.

"I will." I climb into the backseat of Ellen and Jo's dark red car with Castiel; the Winchesters will be taking their Impala first. Within minutes, Singer Salvage Yard is out of sight and we're leaving Sioux Falls.

Ellen and Jo talk quietly in the front seat while Castiel adds his own comments every now and then, correcting a former belief they'd had or asking a question. I'm honestly too tired to notice. I'm not used to running on less than five hours of sleep, so I find myself subconsciously listing to one side and closing my eyes.

In my half-asleep daze, I feel someone shifting me around until my head rests against a shoulder. I stir slightly and a warm hand presses my head back down gently.

"It's all right, Ariel," Castiel murmurs from somewhere above me, "Rest."

I do, and it's the best sleep I have in a long time.

* * *

I wake up when the car stops at a gas station, rubbing my eyes so hard that they don't consider closing again before sitting up.

"Did you sleep well?" Castiel looks down at me when he senses the movement.

"Yeah. Sorry, I didn't mean to fall asleep on you."

"I didn't mind." He shrugs.

"If you two wanna stretch your legs before we hit Carthage, now's your chance," Ellen calls back to us as she gets out of the car, heading over to the gas pump and starting to fill the tank. Jo's already gone, probably either in the women's room or the convenience store, and I can see the Impala pulled up at the pump in front of us. Sam is filling the tank while Dean heads over to the men's room.

I decide it's a good idea to stretch my legs, since they've been cramped from sleeping in the car, so I get out of the car, shaking out the pins and needles in each foot. Another car door closes and I see Castiel getting out, leaning on the roof of the car.

"They didn't want you to come," he admits quietly at last.

That's not surprising; after all, Sam and Dean tend to shove me aside whenever they're barreling headfirst into a case. I'm surprised I've even been allowed this far. "So why _am_ I here?"

"I convinced them last night that Gabriel brought you here for a reason." Castiel keeps his voice low so that Ellen and Sam don't hear. "Perhaps it is better that we face Lucifer with you by our side."

"Besides, if you'd tried to ditch me, I would've kicked and screamed until you took me, anyway," I tease and Castiel quirks a brief smile.

"Very likely."

"Heads up, Ariel." Jo's returned, three bottles of Gatorade in hand, and tosses one over the car in my direction.

I catch the bottle, reading the flavor: fruit punch. "Thanks, Jo." I take a swig of the Gatorade, relieved at the sensation of the cold liquid in my parched throat. "How long till we reach Carthage?" I ask and Ellen shrugs.

"About half an hour, maybe less. You can see the signs already." She nods to the field across the street and I look, frowning. The field's deserted, the plants and grass withered. "Crop failure. There's been cattle deaths and power surges, too."

"Demon omens," Castiel confirms, his eyebrows furrowing, "Even if it isn't Lucifer in Carthage, there is certainly demonic activity there."

"Awesome," I deadpan, draining the Gatorade and lobbing it into a nearby recycling bin before getting back into the car. The last time I'd run into demons, Bobby had ended up paralyzed. I'm not too keen on seeing them again.

"You can still back out, you know," Ellen reminds me as she gets into the driver's seat. Castiel and Jo join us inside, too. "We can turn back around, drop you off with Bobby."

"No." I shake my head. "I want to do anything I can today." Ellen still looks uncertain, but nods, starting the car as Dean returns to the Impala. He and Sam climb into the car and pull back onto the highway. We follow them.

* * *

Carthage is a ghost town. I half-expect a tumbleweed to roll by any second.

"Where is everyone?" I ask warily, looking out the window at the deserted streets.

"Spooky, ain't it?" Ellen agrees, frowning as Dean leans out of the Impala, waving us over. We pull up to them. "Place seem a little empty to you?" Ellen calls over.

"We're gonna go check out the PD. You guys stay here, see if you can find anybody," Dean instructs and we park on the curbside as the Impala drives off. Ellen, Jo, and I get out of the car, but Castiel remains seated inside.

Jo peers down at him. "Ever heard of a door handle?"

"Of course I have." I start as Castiel suddenly appears behind me. I look at the now-empty car and then back at him.

"Don't do that." I smack his arm, but he doesn't take notice, his eyes fixing on a point behind me.

"This town's not empty."

"What is it, Cas?" Ellen asks.

"Reapers."

"Reapers?" I echo.

"As in more than one?" Jo adds, her eyebrows rising.

"They only gather like this at times of great catastrophe. Chicago Fire, San Francisco Quake, Pompeii." Castiel's eyebrows furrow. "I need to find out why they're here. Come with me, Ariel."

Dumbly, I shrug at Ellen and Jo when they give me bewildered looks before running after Castiel, who's already halfway across the street.

"Cas, I can't see them," I point out.

"You can't?" He stops and looks back at me, surprised.

"No. All I see is you avoiding empty spaces on the street."

"There is a reaper directly to your left." He frowns. "Can't you sense him?" I turn to stare at the empty spot next to me before looking back at Castiel and shaking my head. His eyebrows knit together in concern. "Perhaps this was a mistake."

"Well, I'm here now," I point out even as Castiel's attention diverts to a cracked window above us. He places a hand on my shoulder and I barely have time to brace myself before we land in the corridor of the dilapidated building, facing the window Castiel had been staring at. "I'm never gonna get used to that," I mutter as I follow Castiel down the hallway. We pass through a doorway and Castiel pauses. I stop behind him. "What is it?"

Suddenly, he shouts, "It's a trap! Get back!" I jump back just as fire springs up between us. Castiel's trapped in a ring of fire now, the same holy fire that had trapped Gabriel in the warehouse.

"Cas!" I try to reach for him, but he holds out his hand, stopping me.

"Holy fire, I can't cross it."

"Of course you can't." The calm, unfamiliar voice freezes the blood in my veins. "Even a fallen angel has to obey the rules." A tall man approaches us from the other side of the room. He has short blonde hair and pale blue eyes that seem to be perpetually icy to look at. "Hello, brother."

"Lucifer," Castiel says gruffly, his jaw clenched. My heart stops. _That's_ Lucifer? Oh, God, I'm in the same room as Satan.

"And let's not forget dear little Ariel." Lucifer claps his hands together, smiling as he approaches me. I scramble back until my back hits the wall. He pauses halfway across the room, his face half-shrouded in darkness. "What's the matter? Not happy to see me?"

"Get away from her," Castiel snaps, "She doesn't know you."

Lucifer doesn't look away from me. "Is that true, Ariel?" Something flickers across his face and I recognize it as pain. "You don't remember me?"

"I-I fell," I say weakly and Lucifer snorts humorlessly.

"I know. Michael's doing. But I would have thought you'd retain even the slightest inkling...no? Nothing?" He stares at me, as if willing me to suddenly get my memories back, and I shudder, trying not to meet his eyes. "Rumor had it you were killed shortly after you were cast down. How did you survive?" I consider telling him about Gabriel, but keep silent. Finally, he looks away from me and returns his gaze to Castiel, who glares at him from within the ring of holy fire. "So I take it you're here with the Winchesters."

"We came alone," Castiel answers carefully.

"Loyalty. Such a nice quality to see in this day and age." Lucifer makes a show of thinking. "Castiel, right?" Castiel inclines his head slightly. "Castiel," Lucifer repeats as he paces around the ring of fire. "I'm told you came here in an automobile."

Castiel blinks. "Yes."

"What was that like?" Lucifer looks curious.

"Um." Castiel glances at me, bewildered, before answering, "Slow. Confining."

"What a peculiar thing you are." Lucifer finally stops walking, surveying Castiel almost boredly, and the firelight reflects off his face fully.

"What happened to your face?" I ask before I can stop myself. There are large patches of skin missing from Lucifer's face, as if he's been horribly sunburned and the skin is peeling off.

"Ah, well..." He runs a hand over his jaw. "Nick is wearing a little thin, I'm afraid. He can't contain me forever, so-"

"You will not take Sam Winchester," Castiel snarls, "I won't let you." I'm starting to think it was a mistake for Sam to come with us to Carthage.

"I don't understand why you're fighting me, of all the angels."

"You have to ask?" Castiel raises an eyebrow.

"I rebelled, I was cast out. You rebelled, you were cast out. Almost all of Heaven wants to see me dead, and if they succeed, guess what? You're their new Public Enemy Number One. We're on the same side, like it or not, so why not just serve your own best interests? Which, in this case, just happen to be mine." Lucifer shrugs before turning to me. "And you, Ariel. I would have thought you'd be pleased to see me. After all, this _is_ what you were cast down for."

My breath catches in my throat and I stammer, "W-What?"

"Ariel-" Castiel begins, his tone warning, but Lucifer holds up his hand and Castiel falls silent.

"Didn't anyone tell you?" I numbly shake my head. "You wanted to join me, baby sister. Even flipped Michael the bird and tried to find me, but he would have none of that. So he punished you. Quite unfairly, too."

"I don't believe you." My voice trembles.

"I think you do, Ariel." Lucifer tilts his head. "Deep down, I'm sure you remember how much you envied the humans. I'll bet your skin crawls at being one of them now."

"I'm happy," I insist, clenching my fists, "I'm happy being human."

"Keep telling yourself that." He glances between me and Castiel. "So what's your choice?"

"I'll die first," Castiel says firmly.

Lucifer's expression doesn't change. "I suppose you will." He tilts his head in my direction. "Ariel?" When I just stare at him blankly, he sighs. "Sister, please. Stand with me. I can restore you to your full glory, and then some. I've got power that you can't imagine, and I can teach you how to get it, too."

Finding my voice again, I shake my head and say with more bravery than I actually possess, "Go to hell."

Lucifer's face flickers between hurt and cold blankness before he replies, "Already been. Did wonders for my complexion."

A dark-haired woman suddenly runs in, her eyes flashing black, and I recognize her immediately.

"Meg," I say and she turns to me, raising an eyebrow.

"Aren't you the kid who threw holy water at me?"

I force a cheeky smile. "Guilty."

Lucifer snorts. "Once an angel..." He turns to Meg then. "You have news?"

"I got the Winchesters pinned down." My heart stops yet again. "For now, at least. What should I do with them?"

"Leave them alone." My pulse resumes again at Lucifer's casual command.

Meg falters. "I-I'm sorry, but are you sure? I mean, shouldn't we-?"

"Trust me, child." Lucifer strokes Meg's cheek. "Everything happens for a reason."

"If you weren't freaked out before now..." I mutter and Castiel looks just as disturbed.

"Well, you have some time. Time to change your mind?" Lucifer asks, but Castiel simply glares resolutely at him. "I guess not." Lucifer's icy hand suddenly lands on my shoulder and I barely have time to register the look of horror that washes over Castiel's face before I'm being yanked across time and space.

* * *

I sprawl onto withered grass and Lucifer rolls his eyes.

"Ever the graceful one." He reaches for me, but I scramble back.

"Get away from me! Where the hell are we?!"

"Just outside of town. I have a little business to take care of, and I can't have you wandering off." Lucifer flicks his wrist and I'm suddenly slammed against a tree trunk by an invisible force. The wind is knocked out of me. "Now you stay put." He pats my cheek and I suppress a shudder as he picks up a shovel and begins filling in a large hole in the middle of the field.

It's then that I notice the dozens of men standing around with black eyes. They're all demons. Oh, God, what have I gotten into?

"HEY!" Sam's angry voice echoes over the field and relief floods my entire body. Lucifer turns, looking mildly intrigued as he drops his shovel. "Let Ariel go," Sam snarls as he and Dean march onto the field. Dean carries the Colt and Sam holds a shotgun that he currently aims at Lucifer's head.

"Oh, Sam, you don't need that gun here," Lucifer says calmly, "You know I'd never hurt you. Not really."

"Yeah? Well, I'd hurt you." Dean lifts the Colt. "So suck it." He fires without hesitating and the bullet embeds itself in Lucifer's forehead. The former archangel topples backwards and I drop to the ground, the invisible force holding me dissipating.

"Ariel!" Sam's the first one at my side, lifting me into a sitting position. "Did he hurt you? Are you okay?" I bury my face into his shoulder, shaking my head to answer his questions. None of the demons move as Dean tentatively looks at us.

"Did...did it work?" His question is answered when Lucifer inhales sharply and sits up.

"Oww," he groans, rubbing his forehead as he gets to his feet before glaring at Dean. "Where did you get that?" He flings out his hand and Dean flies backwards, slamming his head against another tree trunk and crumpling to the ground. "Now, where were we?"

Sam squeezes me tightly as Lucifer looks at us.

"Don't feel too bad, Sam. There's only six things in all of creation that that gun can't kill, and I just happen to be one of them. But if you give me a minute, I'm almost done." He returns to picking up his shovel. When his back is turned, Sam scrambles to check Dean's pulse. He glances at me, nodding to show that Dean's alive. I sag against the tree trunk with relief. "You know, I don't suppose you'd just say 'yes' here and now?" Lucifer asks nonchalantly as Sam stands again. "End this whole tiresome discussion? That's crazy, right?"

"It's never gonna happen!" Sam snaps.

"Oh, I don't know, Sam." Lucifer starts filling the hole in again. "I think it will. I think it'll happen soon. Within six months. And I think it'll happen in Detroit."

"Sure of that, are you?" I say weakly and Lucifer glances over his shoulder at me.

"Yes, I am, sweetheart." He smiles coldly.

"You listen to me, you son of a bitch." Lucifer turns back to Sam, eyebrows rising in mild curiosity. "I'm gonna kill you myself, you understand me? I'm going to rip your heart out!"

The Devil grins. "That's good, Sam. You keep fanning that fire in your belly. All that pent-up rage. I'm gonna need it."

Sam looks startled for a moment before he forces himself to calm down. "What did you do? What did you do to this town?"

"Oh, I was very generous with this town. One demon for every able-bodied man."

Just the men? "And the others?" I ask softly.

"In there." Lucifer points at the hole. Sam and I gape at him. "I know, it's awful, but these Horsemen are so demanding. So it was women and children first." Horsemen? My mind's spinning right now. Lucifer sighs. "I know what you must think of me, Sam. But I have to do this. I have to. You of all people should understand."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Sam demands.

"I was a son. A brother, like you, a younger brother, and I had an older brother who I loved. Idolized, in fact. And one day I went to him and I begged him to stand with me, and Michael-" Lucifer's voice breaks. "Michael turned on me. Called me a freak. A monster. And then he beat me down. All because I was different. Because I had a mind of my own. Tell me something, Sam. Any of this sound familiar?" Sam's tense shoulders tell me that it does. "And besides, I shouldn't talk about heinous acts. I mean, look at all the things sweet little Ariel hasn't told you," Lucifer says even as Dean stirs with a groan.

My heart sinks. "No. No, no, please don't-"

"Ariel?" Sam looks at me, confusion flashing across his face. "What's he talking about?"

"For one, she's definitely not who she claims to be," Lucifer says cheerfully, returning to his hole-filling. "Not human, not eighteen years old, and certainly not as harmless as she looks." He frowns at the horror-stricken expression on my face. "Oh, I'm sorry, did I give away a spoiler?" I can only stare at him helplessly, tears stinging my eyes as Sam looks between us, stunned and hurt. "Well, anyway, you'll have to excuse me. Midnight is calling and I have a ritual to finish. Don't go anywhere. Not that you could if you would."

"Ariel, what the hell?" Dean demands as he sits up, his eyes narrowing in my direction. Oh, God, he'd heard the entire thing.

"Now repeat after me. We offer up our lives, blood, souls-" Lucifer tells the demons.

"We offer up our lives, blood, souls-" the demons repeat.

"-to complete this tribute."

"-to complete this tribute." One by one, each demon flashes gold and slumps to the ground, dead.

Dean and Sam stare at Lucifer, who raises an eyebrow. "What? They're just demons." He turns to stare at the mass grave in front of him just as a hand rests on my shoulder. I turn to see Castiel pressing a finger to his lips even as he reaches for Sam and Dean. They scramble to his side and we're gone before Lucifer can turn around.

* * *

The instant we arrive in Bobby's house, I'm not even allowed a minute to catch my breath before Dean slams me against the wall. I see stars for a second.

"Dean!" Sam protests loudly from behind us as I try to pry off Dean's hand, which is pressed against my windpipe.

"What the hell are you?" Dean snarls at me as I struggle to breathe through the crushing grip on my neck. "Why did Lucifer talk like he_ knew_ you?"

"D...ean..." I can't form the words to explain, my feet dangling inches above the ground where Dean has me pinned to the wall. Tears stream down my cheeks as I choke.

"Let her go, Dean." Castiel's voice cuts through the tension like a knife. Dean continues to glare at me accusingly, but throws me to the floor roughly. Trembling, I rub at my aching throat as Sam kneels beside me, helping me sit up.

"I suggest you get explaining before I put a bullet through her brain," Dean says coldly as he turns to Castiel, who remains unperturbed.

"She's an archangel." Sam freezes beside me and I bury my face in my hands. "She was cast down centuries ago, and Michael ordered her death. Gabriel sent her to the other universe to protect her until recently."

"How long have you known?" Sam asks me quietly.

I mumble hoarsely, "Since T.V. Land."

"A _month_?!" Dean realizes. "You knew for a friggin' _month_ and you didn't _tell_ us?!" I flinch back as he takes a furious step forward, but Castiel steps between us.

"Don't touch her." His tone is sharp and doesn't leave any room for argument. "I will answer any questions you have, but don't lay a hand on her." With one last glare at me, Dean stalks from the room. Castiel kneels beside me for a moment and squeezes my shoulder reassuringly before following Dean.

Shaking violently now, I press my palms against my face once more as the hysterical sobs threaten to overwhelm me once more.

"Air?" Sam grasps my shoulders gently. "Ariel, look at me." I can't, and that just makes me cry even harder. I hear Sam sigh softly. "I'm not angry."

I sniffle. "You're not?"

"About you being an archangel? No." That's a lie; I can hear the suppressed frustration in his voice. I guess he's trying to look past that because of how freaked out I am. "But you lied to us about it."

"Yeah, and clearly, I had the right idea." I gesture weakly at the doorway Dean had gone through.

"Never mind Dean right now. He's hurting because...because we lost Ellen and Jo."

My heart stops yet again. "W-What?" Now grief adds to the guilt in my chest, making the weight almost unbearable.

"Yeah." Sam swallows before adding, "He would've understood if you'd told us at any other time." His eyebrows furrow, his expression wounded. "I thought you trusted us."

"I was _scared_, Sam!" I snap back. "I thought if I told you, you'd hate me!"

"Well, we don't." He blinks, hurt. "But...Air, you've gotta understand, we have to figure this out somehow." And there it is: even if he doesn't hate me, he's pushing me away. "I mean, Ellen and Jo meant a lot to all of us, but with this on top of it? You need to give us some time."

I nod shakily even as my heart sinks. "Okay."

Sam places a hand on my tear-dampened cheek, silently begging me to understand even as I flinch away from his touch. "I promise I don't hate you."

"I know." He presses a kiss gently to my forehead - which nearly gets me crying again - before getting to his feet and leaving the room, leaving me huddled against the wall Dean had pinned me to.

Soon, Sam returns with Dean, Castiel, and Bobby in tow. Dean purposely avoids my eyes as Castiel helps me to my feet, but Bobby immediately fixates on the slowly forming bruises in the shape of Dean's fingers around my neck.

"Boy, what the hell did you do to her?" he demands, turning to face Dean. The older Winchester scowls, but remains silent.

"Perhaps it is better that you come with me for a while," Castiel tells me quietly and I nod almost immediately. If Sam and Dean want space, they can have it.

Sam hesitates before squeezing my shoulder. I try not to flinch, but I can see that he notices my nervousness from the flash of guilt across his face. "Take care, Ariel." Dean doesn't acknowledge me, but Bobby nods gruffly in goodbye. He doesn't seem angry, but he still seems distant. I barely bring myself to nod to Sam before Castiel touches my shoulder and we're gone.

* * *

**Aw yiss, the big reveal.**

**I'm surprised at how many people noticed that I used the words "silver" and "gray" interchangeably. Now I feel dumb. Are they really that separate as colors? I mean, gray IS the base of silver, just add a little sparkle and shine and you have silver. My goodness, you guys are sharp.**

**Leave reviews!**


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

* * *

_**Then:**_

_Soon, Sam returns with Dean, Castiel, and Bobby in tow. Dean purposely avoids my eyes as Castiel helps me to my feet, but Bobby immediately fixates on the slowly-forming bruises in the shape of Dean's fingers around my neck._

_"Boy, what the hell did you do to her?" he demands, turning to face Dean. The older Winchester scowls, but remains silent._

_"Perhaps it is better that you come with me for a while," Castiel tells me quietly and I nod almost immediately. If Sam and Dean want space, they can have it._

_Sam hesitates before squeezing my shoulder. I try not to flinch, but I can see that he notices my nervousness from the flash of guilt across his face. "Take care, Ariel." Dean doesn't acknowledge me, but Bobby nods gruffly in goodbye. He doesn't seem angry, but he still seems distant. I barely bring myself to nod to Sam before Castiel touches my shoulder and we're gone._

**_Now:_**

"I'm sorry," Castiel says quietly when we land in front of a store somewhere in the middle of a city. The people milling around us don't seem to notice the two strangers who had appeared out of thin air.

"No, you were right," I tell him wearily, "I should've told them from the start."

He squeezes my shoulder. "Just give them time. They'll understand."

"Where are we, anyway?" I look around.

"Chicago. We both have questions we want answered, and only one person who doesn't want either of us dead is available to us." Castiel gives me a wry smile, which doesn't really reassure me as he leads me down the street and up a staircase into an open apartment building. Castiel knocks sharply on the door to number 7 three times and a dog barks from inside. The door swings open and surprisingly, it's Gabriel on the other side. "Hello, Gabriel," Castiel says in his usual deadpan. I'm not sure I want to know how Castiel knew where Gabriel lived. The archangel doesn't seem the type who'd give out his address on a whim.

"Castiel." Gabriel raises an eyebrow at both of us. "Ariel. What're you two doing here?"

"We ran into Lucifer in Carthage." If Gabriel's disturbed by that news, it doesn't show on his face. "The encounter raised many questions."

"And you want me to give you answers." Gabriel crosses his arms before his eyes drop to my bruised throat and widen slightly. "What happened there?"

"Nothing," I mumble, but Castiel has other ideas.

"Dean reacted badly when he and Sam found out about her true nature."

"Was that really necessary?" I throw Castiel an exasperated look.

"Keeping secrets never seems to end well for you," he points out.

Gabriel's expression has changed from mild surprise to downright furious. "He's going back to Tuesday."

"Don't." I shake my head rapidly. "It's not his fault, I'm the one who hid it from him and Sam."

"Doesn't give him any right to-"

"Gabriel, _please._" He glances between Castiel's impassive expression and my own desperate one before sighing wearily.

"You two might as well come in, then." He steps aside, allowing us to enter the apartment. Once the door shuts behind us, the lights flicker on and it's like I've stepped into a large house rather than a tiny apartment in the middle of downtown Chicago. The entrance hall we're in now is decorated in dark greens and off whites, which gives off a warm, homey feeling.

"Nice place," I note and Gabriel smiles at last, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly.

"Thanks. Spent a lot of time on it." I can hear the dog barking again from somewhere further inside and sure enough, when we enter the living room, a small Jack Russell terrier bounds his way over, yipping excitedly.

"Down, Cola." Gabriel waves the dog away even as I kneel down to his height, allowing him to sniff my hand.

"Hey, little guy." Cola barks and leaps up, pressing his paws down on my knees for leverage as he licks my cheek. "Please tell me you didn't name him after soda."

"'Course I did, he's got just as much energy as a fizzy drink does." When I look up at Gabriel, he's grinning at his dog's display of affection while Castiel stands stiffly behind him. Cola goes to investigate the trenchcoat-clad angel, who tenses even more as Cola jumps around him.

"Uhh. What do I do?"

"Oh, just let him get your scent, he'll get bored of you soon," Gabriel dismisses and Castiel awkwardly allows the tiny dog to sniff his fingers. Huffing in approval, Cola runs into the depths of the house once more. "So what kind of questions were so important that you had to hunt little ol' me out to answer?" Gabriel crosses his arms.

"Why did Ariel fall?" I have to admit, I've wanted to know if Lucifer had been telling the truth, too.

Gabriel's eyebrows shoot up. "You mean you don't know?"

Castiel shakes his head. "All I know for certain is what Michael told us, and that was that Ariel had betrayed the Host."

"That's not really helping my self-esteem," I tell him and he shrugs apologetically at me.

"Nah, you didn't actually commit any crime," Gabriel reassures me. "Now I don't know the full story, either, but from what I heard, you apparently went to Michael and asked him to let you see Lucifer. He said 'no,' of course, but you snuck out of Heaven to find Lucifer, anyway. I guess Mikey took that a little too personally, since he probably thought you'd chosen Lucifer's side when it came to the humans."

"_Did_ I choose Lucifer's side?" I'm starting to feel sick to my stomach at the thought; it's starting to seem more plausible, especially after what Lucifer had said back in Carthage.

"Not as far as I know." Gabriel shakes his head and I'm incredibly relieved. "You and I tended to distance ourselves from the fighting most of the time-"

"-and came to the fledglings' side of Heaven." We both look at Castiel, who actually flushes with embarrassment, his cheeks turning pink. "I was the youngest under Ariel's care, but I remember it well." I'm never going to get over the fact that I'm technically older than Castiel.

"Oh, yeah," Gabriel says, sounding like he's recalling something he had once dismissed as unimportant. "You were a tiny thing back then. All big blue eyes and messy hair." He eyes Castiel critically. "Well, I guess some things never change."

Castiel's expression is a mix between nostalgia and mortification, but he simply continues, "Also, do you know of any omens nearby?"

"Define 'nearby.'" Gabriel sounds amused. "I don't always live in Chicago, you know."

Well, that makes no sense at all. "Huh?" Gabriel grins at my confusion as he goes to the door, tapping the knob once before opening it. We're no longer looking at the streets of downtown Chicago, but a suburban development with large green front yards. Gabriel closes the door again, taps the knob, and opens it to reveal a beach. Shutting it again, he glances over his shoulder at us with a smirk.

"See? Tap the knob, think of the place you wanna go, open the door, and you're there."

"Kind of like _Howl's Moving Castle_," I note and Gabriel quirks a smile at the reference.

"That's one way to put it." He turns to Castiel. "As for your question, I haven't heard of anything. There's a couple of demon crowds gathering up near Vermont, though. You might want to start there." He taps the doorknob before opening the door to show a nondescript street.

Castiel nods solemnly. "Thank you." He glances at me. "Ariel?" I nod and begin to step towards him when Gabriel shuts the door again.

"Wait a second, you're taking her with you?"

Castiel blinks, looks at me, and then back at Gabriel. "Uhh. Yes?"

"Don't be stupid. She doesn't know how to fight demons."

"I can handle a knife," I protest.

"Do you _have_ a knife?" I falter. "Exactly." Gabriel crosses his arms. "Leave her with me. At least she's safer here than fighting demons with you."

"Seriously?" I throw my hands in the air helplessly. "First I'm shuttled off to the Winchesters, and then to Bobby, and then to Cas, and then _back_ to the Winchesters, and now here?! What am I, a return gift?!"

Gabriel looks torn between amusement and pity. "Ariel, you have to admit that you don't know the first thing about fighting monsters. A couple of weeks of hunter training won't prepare you for that. My place is warded so nothing can get in."

"You _are_ safer here than anywhere else," Castiel agrees and I whirl on him.

"You're taking _his_ side?!"

Castiel blinks, but doesn't change his mind. "I would rather have you safe than risk your life at my side, sister, especially while you're still human." I exhale wearily, pressing the heel of my palm against my eyes.

"And you're sure you want me here?" I ask in Gabriel's general direction.

"Wouldn't have you anywhere else." Surprised at the sincerity in his voice, I look up to see him smiling slightly.

"Oh." I feel like an idiot for such a bland response, but then Castiel is embracing me gently, the material of his trenchcoat pressing around me.

"Be safe, Ariel."

"You, too, Cas," I mumble into his chest. He squeezes my shoulders before nodding once more to Gabriel.

"Thank you." Wordlessly, the archangel nods back and opens the door for Castiel. With one last glance at me, Castiel leaves and Gabriel shuts the door behind him.

"I feel like I've just signed up for something really horrible," I tell him and he grins over his shoulder at me.

"Obviously. Pick a number between one and four." I stare at him. "Oh, just do it."

"Um...two."

He snaps his fingers and looks up at the ceiling. "Upstairs, second room on the right. Mine's the first on the left, if you need me."

"Oh." He must have made up a room for me. "Thanks." He nods, still not looking at me, and I take that as my cue to leave. Cola meets me at the foot of the stairs, barking happily, and I can't help but grin at his excitement. "Yeah, yeah, I guess I'm here for a little while." He follows me up, his tiny tail wagging as he darts to the second room on the right before I even reach the top of the stairs.

When I push open the door, I'm rooted to the floor. The room isn't large, by any means - it's probably about the same size as the room I had had in my house back in the other universe - but it's absolutely breathtaking. The ceiling is black with dotted stars that seem to glow in the dark, and when I switch on the light, I can see that the side walls are sky blue with fluffy white clouds scattered across them. The bed has light blue sheets and a thick dark blue comforter, with two pillows wearing matching pillowcases.

Cola runs past me and hops up on the bed, looking at me reproachfully as if to ask why I haven't joined him yet.

"Relax, I'm coming." I shut the door behind me and sit down on the bed. Damn, if it isn't the softest mattress I've ever been on. I lie down on the bed and Cola takes the opportunity to flop onto my stomach. "Ow. Jeez, for such a tiny dog, you sure are _heavy_." Cola whines almost in apology and licks my nose, earning a laugh from me. "Okay, okay, you're forgiven." I scratch behind his floppy ears. "You're a smart boy, aren't you? Yeah, smart and handsome." Cola whines again, this time contentedly, as he rolls over, allowing me to rub his belly. "Don't let it go to your ego, though," I scold lightly.

Cola's tongue lolls out of his mouth lazily, probably signalling that it's too late.

* * *

I settle into my new life pretty fast, and within a few days, we've established a tentative routine. While Gabriel doesn't need to eat, I do, so I'm usually the one making breakfast in the morning - which he teases me for endlessly before demanding chocolate chip pancakes - while he snaps up lunch and dinner for me at the appropriate times while creating some sort of cake or candy for himself.

Damn his angelic lack of cavities.

In between meals, Gabriel gives me freedom to do anything I want within the house, so on the first day, I find the library on the first floor and raid his book collection. I find a book on angels nestled between _The Modern Cookbook_ - I don't even want to know - and _A Study of Paleontology_ and find myself skimming through it to find myself.

_The Archangel Ariel_. I pause on the page and read through it. It's the same information the Internet had provided me, but this time, there's a picture. A pretty young woman with bright hazel eyes and shoulder-length curly blonde hair looks back at me, her expression serene in the way all angels seem to be portrayed. She's wearing a white dress and seems to shine with a pinkish light, her grayish-white wings stretched out almost lazily behind her.

"Guess I couldn't hide that book from you forever," I hear Gabriel say quietly and turn as he sits down on the floor next to me.

"Is that what I looked like before?" I ask and he shrugs.

"Sometimes. You usually preferred the vessel you're wearing now, though."

"What was her name?" I vaguely wonder if my vessel's soul had still been attached to my body when I had fallen, or if she had vanished as Jimmy Novak had.

"Angelina. Means 'little messenger.'" I raise an eyebrow, knowing that Gabriel's supposed to be the Messenger of God, and he grins. "I know, irony abounds. 'Specially since she was my own vessel's younger sister." He glances at the book then, suddenly unwilling to meet my eyes. "We were twins, y'know."

"We were?"

"Yep. We had that whole twin-bond and everything." I feel a sudden overwhelming sense of sorrow for Gabriel as he fiddles with the edge of a page before flipping it over quickly, changing the subject. "Hey, look, there's me!"

"Dude, you look like a girl," I tell him, grinning at the picture in the book.

"Technically, angels are genderless." He makes a face at me.

"I ought to show that picture to the Winchesters."

"You're the worst little sister ever." I stick my tongue out at him, which turns out to be a mistake as he grabs me and digs his fingers into my sides, tickling me until I'm half-screaming for mercy through my laughter. Cola runs into the library at the commotion, barking wildly and trying to get in on the action by licking both our faces whenever he gets an opening.

I wonder if this is what having an older brother is like. I could get used to it.

* * *

By the end of the week, I'm itching to leave the house, but as easygoing as Gabriel is on whatever I do within the house, he's adamant that I don't leave.

"You bypass the wards, you'll be an open target," he warns me the instant I even mention going outside. Cola barks in agreement from beside him.

_Traitorous mutt. See if I ever give you belly rubs again._

"Who'd go after _me_?" I demand plaintively and Gabriel raises his eyebrow at me.

"The douchebags we unfortunately call family?"

Okay, I have to hand that point to him.

Later that night, Gabriel comes into my room and shoves an old wooden box unceremoniously at me. I frown at him, confused.

"Just take it," he grumbles. I open the box and see a polished silver blade inside, shorter than a sword, but longer than any regular knife I'd practiced with. "It's an archangel's blade," Gabriel says reluctantly, looking uncomfortable, "Yours, actually." I flip it over and see beautiful runes engraved into the hilt of the blade.

"Is this Enochian?" He nods. "What does it say?"

"Your name."

"And you kept it all this time?" I run my finger over the flat of the blade, feeling the contrast between the smooth metal and bumpy grooves of the Enochian letters.

"Yeah, well." He coughs slightly, even though I know that as an archangel, he doesn't even need to cough. "It's not like I could just trash something like that. It kills almost everything. Demons, most monsters, angels-"

"It kills angels?" I look up, surprised.

"Archangels, specifically. But regular ones, too." He points a finger warningly at me almost immediately. "Don't even think about it."

"What?"

"You're thinking about using it on Lucifer, and I'm telling you not to bother. For one, he'd see it coming a mile away. He wasn't born yesterday." I wrinkle my nose, realizing he's caught me. "Anyway, only an archangel can use it to kill another archangel, and I hate to remind you, but you're out of go-juice."

"So then why _are_ you giving it to me?"

He shrugs. "Just 'cause you can't kill Lucifer with it, doesn't mean you shouldn't keep it to protect yourself against anything else."

"Thought you said I wasn't supposed to leave the house," I remind him.

He smiles a little sadly then, and I'm briefly reminded of the first few times I had seen him in my dreams. "It's not like you'll be here forever." I look back down at the archangel blade in my lap before placing it back in the box and closing it. I set the box aside before impulsively wrapping my arms around Gabriel. He freezes, startled, as his arms hover awkwardly over my back.

"Oh, just hug me back, I know you want to," I snap half-heartedly into his shoulder, grinning.

Finally, Gabriel's arms encircle me as I feel his chin rest on top of my head. "I'm an awful brother, aren't I?" he murmurs against my hair with a wry chuckle.

"You're doing okay so far." His arms tighten around me, confirming that I had said the right thing.

* * *

My phone rings another week later, distracting me from a book on the Enochian alphabet (hey, might as well learn something useful). I pull it out of my pocket, hesitating when I see the caller ID: _Sam W._

"You don't have to answer," Gabriel points out, looking up from his _Weekly World News_ magazine and frowning when he sees the name on the screen.

Finally, I accept the call anyway and get up from my chair, leaving the library to talk in the hallway. "Sam?"

"_Hey, Air_." He sounds relieved to hear my voice. "_How're you doing_?"

"I'm okay. I'm with Gabriel."

"_With _Gabriel?" he echoes, confused, "_I thought you were with Cas_."

"No, Cas dropped me here about two weeks ago."

"_He didn't hurt you, did he_?" Sam asks skeptically.

"No, not at all," I answer, a little annoyed at the assumption.

"_Okay, I believe you, I just...you know, we've only ever known him as the Trickster. Kind of hard to remember he's a good guy_," Sam admits.

"Is there a reason you called?" I ask, trying not to sound as impatient as I feel.

"_No, just...I wanted to make sure you were okay_." Sam's voice sounds crestfallen, and I can already see the hurt puppy-eyes on his face. "_The way things ended between us, I just_-"

"No, I get it. It's okay," I interrupt him, "How are Dean and Bobby?"

"_They're doing fine. Bobby's pretty much forgiven you and Dean's still pretty pissed, but he's mellowing out. At least he doesn't glare anymore when I mention your name_," Sam chuckles.

"Mention me a lot, do you?" I can't help but tease and for a moment, it's almost like nothing's changed between us.

"_Oh, yeah, I can't get you off my mind_," Sam deadpans in return and I can imagine him rolling his eyes goodnaturedly. "_Just give Dean a little more time, he'll come around_."

"Yeah, I know." Wanting to change the topic, I ask, "So have you two been on any cases?"

That launches Sam into an anecdote about their most recent undercover case in a mental hospital, and I find myself laughing as he describes Dean's attempt at craziness by pulling down his own pants and yelling "PUDDING!", as well as Sam's own experience when the hospital staff drugged him to the point of delusion. It's the most normal I've felt in the past two weeks, and by the time Sam and I say goodbye to each other and hang up, I'm grinning like an idiot.

* * *

It's not Sam's fault, of course.

But it can't possibly be a coincidence that the night after he calls, I dream of Carthage for the first time since it happened. I see the carnage of the mass grave, the horrified look on Castiel's face when Lucifer transports me away from him, Lucifer's cold smile as he greets me as if we've never been apart a day in our lives-

"Ariel!"

I feel Dean's fingers, unyielding and calloused, squeezing my neck in a vice grip while Sam does nothing to stop him, glaring accusingly at me over his brother's shoulder, and I can't breathe, _I can't breathe_-

"Ariel, _wake up_!" I jolt upright and my forehead collides with Gabriel's as he leans over me. He quickly draws back as I hiss in pain, grabbing my soon-to-be-bruised head, and he heals the injury with a brush of his fingers against my forehead before feigning unconcern as he says, "You, uh...you were screaming."

"Sorry," I rasp - wow, I'd screamed myself hoarse without even realizing - and drop my gaze back to my hands clasped in my lap. "I didn't mean to bother you."

"Hey, I didn't mean-" Gabriel sighs wearily, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I'm really bad at this." At any other time, I would have smiled, but I can feel myself shaking with the attempt to hold back tears, and I can tell he's sensed my inner turmoil. "Oh, to hell with it, get over here." Before I can protest, he scoops me up and places me firmly in his lap. Short as the archangel is (then again, Sam's raised my expectations of people's heights), I'm even smaller, and I curl up against him almost instinctively. I can feel his fingers carding through my hair, and the gesture calms me down a little, but not nearly enough to keep me from burying my face into his shoulder and giving in to my tears.

He doesn't say anything, which I'm thankful for, but simply holds me until I've cried myself out, pressing a kiss into my hair when my trembling ceases.

"You good?" he asks quietly and I feel like an idiot for crying on him as I nod.

"Sorry," I mumble again and he rolls his eyes as he grasps my shoulders, pulling me back so that I would look at him.

"Stop saying that."

"Oh, sorry." My cheeks turn pink when I realize I've done exactly what he told me not to. "Last one, I promise." He grins, his smile bright in the darkness of the room as he tugs me into another embrace. I melt into it readily. Gabriel's warm and smells oddly like a mix between burnt sugar and ozone. It's soothing, and my eyes slip closed again, too heavy to stay open anymore.

"You want me to stay?" I barely register the question, already half-asleep again, but finally manage to nod. He shifts me around until I'm horizontal again and I cling to him even as I sink back into oblivion once more.

I don't dream again.

* * *

**I swear I just get more insecure with each new chapter. But here's a little break from the Season 5 recap. I've wanted to write some sibling fluff for a while now, and my Gabriel-muse literally jumped me and demanded that I write him into this chapter or he'd stick me in an eternal Tuesday, forever writing the same sentence.**

**A truly terrible fate, indeed.**

**Also, Gabriel's dog is from _Tall Tales_, for those who'd forgotten. Poor little guy was never mentioned again after that episode, so I decided to write him into this chapter. And the name of "Cola" only stemmed from the fact that I was drinking Pepsi at the time.**

**Leave reviews (and also chocolate, chocolate would be nice).**


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19  
**

* * *

_**Then:**_

_"Sorry," I mumble again and he rolls his eyes as he grasps my shoulders, pulling me back so that I would look at him._

_"Stop saying that."_

_"Oh, sorry." My cheeks turn pink when I realize I've done exactly what he told me not to. "Last one, I promise." He grins, his smile is bright in the darkness of the room as he tugs me into another embrace. I melt into it readily. Gabriel's warm and smells oddly like a mix between burnt sugar and ozone. It's soothing, and my eyes slip closed again, too heavy to stay open anymore._

_"You want me to stay?" I barely register the question, already half-asleep again, but finally manage to nod. He shifts me around until I'm horizontal again and I cling to him even as I sink back into oblivion once more._

_I don't dream again._

**_Now:_**

Gabriel doesn't ask me about the dream the next morning, which is a relief, because there's no way I can explain it if he _did_ ask me to. Instead, I find a laptop - finally! -and use it to scour the news, and I'm surprised at what I find.

Random floods and earthquakes all over the country. Demonic omens - cattle mutilations, crop failure, power outages, etc. - and missing people everywhere. It's starting to spread to other countries, too; the Apocalypse is going global. And I'm just sitting here doing nothing to stop it.

But maybe I can. My mind flashes back to the archangel's blade lying on my nightstand and automatically begins forming a plan. The only problem now is sneaking past my archangel prison warden.

* * *

It's easier than I expect it to be. Gabriel's upstairs and doesn't even notice when I make my way to the front door that night. Cola whines at me disapprovingly from where he's curled up on the couch and I hush him with a gentle scratch behind his ears.

"I'm sorry, boy, but I've gotta do something to stop this," I whisper, "Please don't tell Gabriel." He whines again, but falls silent as I tap the doorknob and turn the handle to reveal an empty street in Des Moines, Iowa. The demonic omens are strongest here, from what I've read, and hopefully, I can put an end to it. As I quietly step outside and shut the door behind me carefully, I can feel the metal of the archangel's blade brushing against the inside of my forearm, where I've hidden it so that with a flick of my wrist, the blade will slide out into my hand.

Glancing around nervously to make sure no unexpected siren goes off the instant I leave Gabriel's wards, I make a break for it, heading down the street. I should've known it was too easy, because two minutes after I make my escape, my phone goes off.

Wincing, I pull it out of my pocket and see the caller ID: _Gabriel_. Reluctantly, I flip it open. Maybe I can convince him that he's got the wrong number if I change my voice or-

"_You have five minutes to get your ass back here,_" Gabriel says, his voice low with suppressed anger. Welp, there goes _that_ plan.

"I can't. I've got work to do."

"_What work__? The omens? Ariel, you're not ready to-_"

"Well, if I don't do something, who will? It's not exactly as if you're anti-Apocalypse, are you?" Gabriel's silent now. "I'm sorry." I pull the phone away, ready to hang up.

"_I will find you and drag you back home_," he threatens.

Impulsively, anger getting the best of me, I retort, "I don't _have_ a home." I snap the phone shut, shoving it into my pocket before ducking into a nearby 24-hour Internet café. Maybe I can find the source of the demonic omens within the city here.

Within minutes, I'm leaving again with the firm conclusion that I am not the research guru that is Sam Winchester. Grudgingly, I dial his number.

"_Hello_?"

"Sam, it's me."

"_Ariel_?" Sam's voice perks up. "_What's wrong? Are you okay_?"

"I'm fine, I just need a little help on something. Have you been hearing about demonic omens in Des Moines, Iowa?"

"_Des Moines_?" Sam echoes and I can hear typing on his end of the line. "_Yep, got a couple of matches here. Why, what are you-_?" He breaks off. "_Air, no_."

"I have to," I protest.

"_Not on your own, it's too dangerous._"

"Fuck dangerous, Sam, it's the right thing to do!" I argue, "And if Dean wasn't there and you came across this case, you'd go after it, too!"

"_I was raised into hunting_," he points out, "_You weren't_."

"I don't care. I'm not dropping this."

Sam sighs heavily, recognizing a hopeless cause when he hears it. "_You'll want to get some holy water. Did Bobby teach you how to make some_?"

"Yeah, I remember." How can I not, after all the hours Bobby spent drilling the incantation into my head?

"_Good. The demons will be after you as soon as you leave Gabriel's wards, which I'm assuming you did already. They know you're associated with me and Dean, Lucifer's warned them about you. Be safe, and be careful. Exorcise them as soon as you blind them with the holy water_." I decide not to mention the archangel's blade. "_Just be safe._"

"I will. Thanks, Sam." I end the call and tuck the phone back into my pocket before heading into a nearby dollar store. I come out with a wooden rosary - seriously? They'll sell anything at these stores - and a water bottle from the display near the cash register, and duck into an alley to avoid any prying eyes. I drop the rosary into the water and begin the blessing quickly.

_"Exorcizo te, creatura aquæ, in nomine Dei Patris omnipotentis, et in nomine Jesu Christi, Filii ejus Domini nostri, et in virtute Spiritus Sancti: ut fias aqua exorcizata ad effugandam omnem potestatem inimici, et ipsum inimicum eradicare et explantare valeas cum angelis suis apostaticis, per virtutem ejusdem Domini nostri Jesu Christ: qui venturus est judicare vivos et mortuos et sæculum per ignem. Deus, qui ad salutem humani generis maxima quæque sacramenta in aquarum substantia condidisti: adesto propitius invocationibus nostris, et elemento huic, multimodis purificationibus præparato, virtutem tuæ benedictionis infunde; ut creatura tua, mysteriis tuis serviens, ad abigendos dæmones morbosque pellendos divinæ gratiæ sumat effectum; ut quidquid in domibus vel in locis fidelium hæc unda resperserit careat omni immunditia, liberetur a noxa. Non illic resideat spiritus pestilens, non aura corrumpens: discedant omnes insidiæ latentis inimici; et si quid est quod aut incolumitati habitantium invidet aut quieti, aspersione hujus aquæ effugiat: ut salubritas, per invocationem sancti tui nominis expetita, ab omnibus sit impugnationibus defensa. Per Dominum, amen."_

The incantation is long and I thank Bobby mentally for making me memorize it for several hours straight as I speed through the Latin, stumbling in a few places. The water doesn't look all that different and I pray that the blessing worked. Unfortunately, in the time it takes me to create the holy water, the demons arrive.

"Well, if it isn't the little archangel that couldn't." I barely have time to get to my feet before a strong grip pins me to the wall by my neck. Thankfully, I keep a hold of the water bottle and hide it behind my back. "So did the Winchesters finally let you off your leash?" the demon sneers, his eyes flashing black, "Well, that's good. Our master's been looking for you." I can't talk, but my grip on the water bottle tightens. The crinkling plastic distracts the demon. "What's that you've got there?" He reaches for the bottle and I splash some of the water in his face.

He yells in pain and falls back, his face smoking, and I'm relieved that the holy water works as I flick my other wrist, my archangel's blade sliding out into my hand. I grasp the handle tightly as I stab the blade directly into the demon's chest. An orange light flickers weakly within his chest before dimming as he goes limp. I yank the archangel's blade out, wiping it clean on the demon's shirt as I swallow back the bile in my throat.

I just killed someone.

_Not just someone, a demon_, another part of my mind whispers, _You did the right thing_. So why do I feel so lousy, anyway?

I don't have time to delve into pity, though; three more black-eyed people - two men and one woman - run into the alley, alerted by the dying screams of their companion. I tighten my grasp on the archangel's blade as I throw my remaining holy water in their faces. They stumble back with sharp hisses of pain, and I manage to pin down one of them and stab him, too. In the time it takes for me to kill him, though, the other two recover, and my archangel's blade is knocked out of my grasp when the woman backhands me, sending me sprawling to the ground.

"You're more trouble than you're worth," she snarls, taking my blade and pressing it against my throat. I struggle against her and feel the tip of the blade nick my throat. A thin trickle of blood runs down my neck, but the demon is suddenly yanked off me, my archangel's blade clattering to the ground beside me as she's thrown off me.

"Well, two out of four ain't half-bad for a beginner," Gabriel drawls lazily as I scramble to my feet, rubbing at my neck as he pins the other demon to the wall with a snap of his fingers. "Might wanna shut your eyes, kiddo." Knowing better than to disagree with him, I shut my eyes tightly. It doesn't stop my eyes from aching horribly as a blinding white light fills the alley briefly. When it fades, I tentatively open my eyes to see both demons lying dead on the floor beside their partners and Gabriel studying his own hand contemplatively.

"Are you okay?" I ask warily as I pick up my archangel's blade, returning it to my pocket.

He looks up, startled, as if he's forgotten I'm still there. "I'm fine. It's just been a while since I pulled the wings-and-halo set out."

"How'd you find me, anyway?"

He rolls his eyes. "It's not _that_ big a city. All I had to do was find the demons and there you were, smack dab in the middle of them. Took the liberty of clearing out the rest of them for you, by the way."

"Oh." All my earlier determination and anger dissolves into crushing guilt. "'M sorry," I mumble.

"Yeah, well." He glances down at the demons at our feet, not looking at me. "Figured this would happen sooner or later." Finally, he looks back up and I feel even worse when I catch the utter lack of anger in his expression. He just looks tired and disappointed, and the lump in my throat steadily grows more painful. "C'mon, let's just go..." He hesitates. "Well, not home, but...y'know, it's-"

"-home," I interrupt shakily, forcing myself to meet his eyes, "It's home." He studies my face for a moment before nodding and reaching out to grasp my shoulder. Within seconds, we're back in the living room, and Cola barks in greeting, jumping up and down and licking my hands. I ignore the dog in favor of pressing my face against Gabriel's chest. He stiffens and makes no move to hug me back. "I'm sorry," I say again weakly as tears sting my eyes.

He sighs heavily and I feel his arms wrap around me at last. "I know you are." Cola whines, sensing the tense mood, and backs off. "I guess I should be sorry, too."

I sniffle and pull back. "Why?"

"Well, you were right. I mean, I'm all for the Apocalypse for the wrong reasons." I don't understand, and I guess it shows on my face, because Gabriel looks even more frustrated. "You wouldn't remember, Ariel, but the fighting in Heaven was _awful_. And after Lucifer was cast down, I couldn't bear it. But now it's happening all over again, and I just want it to be over, one way or another."

"And you want billions of people to die in the process, just so Michael and Lucifer could quit bitch-slapping each other?" I take a step further back, my guilt shifting quickly back to anger. "You archangels are all the same."

"_Us_?" Gabriel's eyebrows shoot up in surprise. "You keep forgetting that you're one of us."

"Not anymore, and I'm glad I'm not!" Nothing tears at my heart more than the wounded look that flashes across Gabriel's face, but I keep going. It's too late to take it back now. "At least I give a damn about the people on this planet! And I don't care if I ever get my Grace back or not, or if I die trying to stop the Apocalypse, 'cause at least I'm _trying_!" Not waiting for his response - besides, I doubt he's planning to give one anytime soon, if his shocked expression is anything to go by - I storm upstairs and slam my door loudly enough that I'm relatively sure Gabriel hears it. I know for sure that Cola hears it, because he starts barking like crazy from downstairs.

I press my face into the pillows and cry until exhaustion takes over.

* * *

I wake up when a warm, wet nose presses against my cheek. Cola licks my cheek, fully startling me into awareness. When had he gotten into my room? The door had been closed.

"Morning." Oh, well, that explains it. Gabriel's perched on the edge of the bed, holding out a mug awkwardly. I accept it and take a sip, only to find that it's hot chocolate. I swear, he's intent on giving me diabetes.

"Thanks," I mumble hoarsely into the mug, not meeting Gabriel's eyes.

"I'm sorry," he says abruptly and I look up, startled. "Look, what I said last night, I didn't get to finish. I was gonna say that I wanted it to be over, but it doesn't have to end with Michael and Lucifer fighting. I don't want it to end with that again."

"So...what? You're on our side now?" I ask slowly.

"Well, if the shoe fits." He quirks a weary smile and I don't hesitate to set the mug aside before hugging him tightly. He freezes, startled, before hugging me back just as fiercely.

"Love you," I say before I can stop myself and Gabriel tenses even more even as he squeezes my shoulders gently.

"Yeah, you, too." His voice sounds oddly choked and I'm about to question him about it when my phone buzzes in my pocket. I let go of Gabriel to tug it out. It's Sam, so I flip my phone open.

"Sam, what-?"

"_Give the phone to Gabriel_," Sam interrupts, sounding agitated, and I blink even as I hold the phone out to Gabriel.

"It's for you." Gabriel accepts the phone, looking just as surprised as I feel, and puts it to his ear.

"Yo, Sasquatch." His tone is much lighter than it was seconds ago, but his eyebrows furrow as he listens to Sam talk. "Well, why would you need _me_ to-? Oh, right, because Cassie's powers are circling the drain. Well, I _can't._ I'm not leaving Ariel on her own." His jaw clenches at Sam's reply. "No, I can't just bring her along, the point of her being here is to get away from you two."

I tug at his sleeve, demanding silently what's going on. He shakes his head at me and I glare back. If Sam and Dean need our help, I'm ready to go with or without Gabriel.

I guess Gabriel realizes that because he huffs impatiently and retorts, "Fine, fine, don't get your panties in a twist, Gigantor. We'll be there in five." He tosses the phone back at me and I check to see if Sam's still on the line, but he's hung up already.

"What is it?" I ask as I pocket my phone once more.

"The Winchesters are beckoning." Gabriel gets up, heading for the door, and I drain my mug of hot chocolate - which has gone cold by now - in one gulp before following him. Cola barks as he runs after us, racing down the stairs and settling in on the couch. "Said something about time traveling back to the seventies and Castiel not being strong enough to manage it on his own, so they're calling me to give him a hand."

"So why do I have to come, too?" I ask even as I cross over to the kitchen to put the mug in the sink and fill it with water.

"You don't. But I'm not leaving you here alone."

"I'm an adult, I can be left to my own devices for a while."

"You know, up until last night, I would've bought that." I flinch at the subtle reprimand and Gabriel sighs wearily. "Look, I don't like this any more than you do, but we're not getting much of a choice here."

"I know." He takes that as consent, because he touches my shoulder and we're suddenly in a motel room. Castiel looks up first from where he's placing a ceramic jar into a duffel bag.

"Hello, Gabriel. Ariel."

"Hey, Cas," I greet him first, but I'm startled by the abrupt (and tight to the point of painful) bear hug I receive from behind. "If you're trying to kill me, this is a nice way to go about it," I tell Sam dryly over my shoulder. He rolls his eyes as he sets me down again.

"Good to see you, too, Air." He looks back up at Gabriel. "Thanks for coming."

"Wasn't really an option _not_ to come," Gabriel replies stiffly and Sam removes his hand from my shoulder, sensing the source of Gabriel's irritation. Just like that, the archangel relaxes enough to ask cheerfully, "So where's Winchester Senior?"

Well, that explains the lack of hostility when I showed up.

"He's out getting supplies," Sam answers.

That reminds me. "What's going on, anyway? Something about time travel?"

"You remember Anna? From, uh...well, I guess it'd be Season Four for you?" I'd actually forgotten all about the television show, but I nod, remembering the red-haired fallen angel. "She went back in time to go after our parents."

"Why?" I frown, confused.

"Because I refused to let her kill Sam," Castiel says gruffly, zipping up the duffel bag after adding two angel blades to the contents and handing it to Sam carefully. "She went for the next available option."

"Is this all because of the whole vessel-thing?" I ask, bewildered.

"No vessel, no Apocalypse," Gabriel points out, as if he hadn't thought of that before and is now considering it seriously.

"Don't even think about it," I scold, pointing a finger at him warningly, and he throws up his hands in surrender.

"Yes, ma'am!"

Sam snorts. "Got you wrapped around her finger already, doesn't she?" When Gabriel shoots him a grudging glare, his grin widens as he ruffles my hair affectionately. "Yeah, she does that." Damn, I've missed him. Can you blame me for leaning into the touch just a little?

It's then that Dean walks in, carrying a few bottles of water with rosaries floating in them. He first sees me and his jaw clenches, so I instinctively step behind Gabriel.

"Wouldn't recommend laying a hand on her, Dean-o," Gabriel says pleasantly, but I can see the dangerous glint in his eyes. "I can and will scatter your molecules across the galaxy."

"Drop it, Gabe," I mutter, embarrassed as I clutch the back of his jacket.

Dean scowls at the archangel's threat, but glances at me again, his expression a little softer. "Look, Air, about last time-"

"It's okay. It was my fault, anyway," I say quickly. We've got bigger issues to worry about.

Dean seems to be struggling with words, but he just nods jerkily before glancing at Sam. "We ready to go?"

"We should be." Sam shoulders the duffel bag in his hand before glancing at Castiel. "Cas?"

The angel nods even as he extends a hand to Gabriel, who grasps it firmly while taking my hand with the other. Sam takes my free hand while Dean clutches his brother's and Castiel's shoulders. We look like a weird prayer circle.

"Bend your knees," Castiel suggests to the Winchesters, who brace themselves, and I shut my eyes as with a sharp jerk around my abdomen, I'm tugged across time and space.

Castiel, Gabriel, and I land on the sidewalk. Sam and Dean end up in the middle of the street, and cars swerve to avoid them, honking wildly. They quickly scramble back to the sidewalk, wide-eyed and glancing around themselves like lost puppies.

"Did we make it?" Sam asks and Dean eyes a tiny lime green car whizzing by with distaste.

"Unless they're bringing Pintos back into production, I'd say 'yes.'" His eyes flicker to Castiel. "Cas!" It's then that I notice Castiel's state and I kick myself for not catching it immediately. Castiel looks awful as he leans against a nearby car, blood streaking from his nose and running down towards his upper lip even as he coughs violently, covering his mouth with his sleeve. Blood spatters the tan material of his trenchcoat.

"Oh my God, are you okay?" I drop to my knees beside him and he grimaces.

"I'm fine. I'm much better than I expected."

"This is fine?" I hear Dean mutter wryly.

"Damn it," Gabriel scolds even as he kneels down on Castiel's side, "You should've taken more power from me, I could've afforded it." Castiel looks ashamed even as he lists sideways, his eyes slipping shut. I catch him and try to ignore the damp feeling of the blood from his nose soaking into the collar of my shirt.

Sam places a hand in front of Castiel's nose and mouth. "He's breathing. Sort of." He looks up at us helplessly. "What do we do?"

"First things first, we get him somewhere safe," Gabriel says even as he shifts Castiel until most of the younger angel's weight is no longer on me.

"There's a motel over there." Dean points at the _Prairie Count Motel_ sign just down the road.

"Safe as we can get." Gabriel shrugs as Dean pulls Castiel up, the angel's head lolling lifelessly against the hunter's shoulder, and carries him carefully down to the motel. We follow him while Sam veers off to find a phonebook, mumbling something about finding John and Mary Winchester's address.

Once we've got Castiel settled in a room and Dean goes to find Sam, I sit down on Castiel's other side as Gabriel leans over him, pressing a hand to his forehead.

"What's wrong with him?" I demand.

"He didn't use as much of my power as he should've. Stupid kid." He knocks lightly on Castiel's forehead reprimandingly, but the unconscious angel doesn't react. "He just needs a little time to get his energy back, and I'm gonna have to heal him for a while so that'll happen sometime this century."

"You mean within the next twenty-two years?" I deadpan, seeing as we're in 1978.

Gabriel gives me an identically-unimpressed look. "You're hysterical."

"Learned from the best," I reply sweetly and he allows a grudging smile as he returns his attention to Castiel. Unsure what else I can do, I take Castiel's limp hand in mine and squeeze it.

I'm starting to feel less and less optimistic by the second.

* * *

**Yeah, so am I, Ariel, so am I. Every single time I upload a new chapter, I swear I'm terrified that I'm gonna lose readers. Of course that'll never happen because you're not allowed to leave me because I will hold you hostage via awful writing. -cackles evilly-**

**So here's the beginning of _The Song Remains the Same_, which quite frankly also gives me feels. Damn it, Season Five, and your feels-giving.**

**Leave reviews and Cadbury Easter Eggs! (Those things are addictive, damn it.)**


	20. Chapter 20

******Chapter** **20**

* * *

_**Then:**_

_Once we've got Castiel settled in a room and Dean goes to find Sam, I sit down on Castiel's other side as Gabriel leans over him, pressing a hand to his forehead._

_"What's wrong with him?" I demand._

_"He didn't use as much of my power as he should've. Stupid kid." He knocks lightly on Castiel's forehead reprimandingly, but the unconscious angel doesn't react. "He just needs a little time to get his energy back, and I'm gonna have to heal him for a while so that'll happen sometime this century."_

_"You mean within the next twenty-two years?" I deadpan, seeing as we're in 1978._

_Gabriel gives me an identically-unimpressed look. "You're hysterical."_

_"Learned from the best," I reply sweetly and he allows a grudging smile as he returns his attention to Castiel. Unsure what else I can do, I take Castiel's limp hand in mine and squeeze it._

_I'm starting to feel less and less optimistic by the second._

**_Now:_**

It's been an hour and while night begins to settle in outside, Castiel doesn't seem to be improving. Gabriel's been working on healing him, but I can see that the strain on his Grace is taking a toll on him. He looks pale and his eyes are squinted in concentration - or are they squinted because of a headache? - even as he presses his hands against Castiel's chest.

"You look tired," I note quietly, stating the obvious, and Gabriel lifts his hands off Castiel with a heavy sigh.

"There's a lot of work that needs to be done. He's nowhere near okay, and I can't overload him with too much healing energy at one time. He's not meant to be exposed to an archangel's Grace for too long."

"So take a break and give yourself and him some rest," I suggest. He looks ready to argue, but then nods, pinching the bridge of his nose in an attempt to stave off his exhaustion. I shift over to sit next to him and wrap my arms around him. The embrace seems to be exactly what he needs, because he sinks into it gratefully.

"When'd you get so smart?" he mumbles against my shoulder wryly.

"I certainly didn't learn it from you," I tease lightly.

"Cheeky brat," he says affectionately with a tired smile.

"I love you, too." He squeezes me weakly one more time before letting go and shifting his chair so that he could lean against the wall beside the bed. By the time he closes his eyes, he's already nodded off, and I can't help but grin at the fact that an archangel who technically doesn't need to sleep is fully knocked out now.

I set to tending to Castiel as much as I can, since Gabriel's clearly not up to the task, and get a clean towel from the bathroom. I run it under cold water before returning to Castiel's side and mopping up the dried blood from his face along with the sheen of sweat on his forehead. His skin is too warm to the touch, and I'm worried that he's running a fever.

"Ariel?" Castiel rasps as he stirs, his eyes fluttering open slightly. They're glazed and my suspicions are confirmed: he's definitely feverish.

"Relax." I press down on his shoulder. "We're working on healing you, but you need to rest until you're back up to speed."

"The Winchesters-" he protests.

"-will be just fine on their own, and if they're not, they'll call," I interrupt sternly before smoothing back his hair from his forehead almost instinctively. "But you're no good to any of us like this."

His lips twitch upwards slightly. "You sound like how you used to before."

I try not to think about how that twists something painfully in my chest. "I'll take that as a compliment."

"You should." He reaches up weakly and I let him take my wrist, his fingers loosely wrapping around it. "You were a good sister. Still are."

Oh, hell, he's going to bring on the waterworks if he keeps this up. "Thanks," I mumble hoarsely, embarrassed, and lean down to kiss his fever-flushed cheek. "Now sleep." He nods and closes his eyes, his breathing evening out slowly as he sinks back into unconsciousness.

Just to be sure, I press my hand against Gabriel's forehead, too, to check for a fever. He feels normal, but he cracks an eye open, disgruntled by his nap's interruption.

"The hell, woman?" he grumbles and I shake my head.

"Just checking. You might want to move to the other bed before you get a crick in your neck." He mutters a few swearwords at me as he stumbles to his feet and over to the empty bed on the other side of the room. He's asleep before his head hits the pillows, and I return to making more cold compresses to place against Castiel's feverish skin.

At least this is something I can do for the both of them.

* * *

The ringing of the motel room's phone startles me out of the doze I'd fallen into after about an hour of tending to Castiel, and I reach it as Gabriel stirs, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

"Hello?"

"_Air, it's us. How's Cas_?" Sam asks.

"He's about the same." I glance at Castiel, who's still unconscious. "We're working on it. What about Anna, did you find her?"

"_Oh, we found her all right. She went after John, but we couldn't kill her, so we had to run._" I'm guessing he's using his parents' first names because John and Mary are within earshot. "_We're hiding out at Mary's parents' place right now._"

"Do you need help?"

"_Well, we're warding the place so angels can't come in. You probably could, but I don't think that's a good idea._"

"I'm with the moose on that one," Gabriel adds, clearly listening in on our conversation. Damn his angelic hearing.

"_Good to know we're on the same page for once_," Sam deadpans, hearing Gabriel's response.

"Ugh, you two are like my overprotective parents or something," I mutter and shove the phone at Gabriel. "Here, decide my life for me, then." He makes a face at me as he puts the phone to his ear.

"All right there, Jolly Green?" He grins at Sam's obviously pithy response before answering, "Nah, Castiel's got some more healing left to go, but he'll be fine. Tell his boyfriend to quit worrying." I snort as I file away the evidence that Gabriel ships Destiel just as much as I do. "Yeah, will do. Later, Sammich." Gabriel hangs up.

"How many nicknames for Sam can you come up with in one minute?" I roll my eyes.

"Plenty enough, given the right incentive." He shrugs as he rolls his sleeves up and nudges me aside, placing his hands back on Castiel's chest. "Now shut up and let me get back to work."

"Don't drain yourself," I warn him as I take the towel - now lukewarm - off Castiel's forehead and take it to the bathroom to soak it in cold water once more. The younger angel shivers when I put the wet towel back on his overheated forehead. "Don't the angels from this time know we're here?" I ask.

Gabriel shrugs as he traces the shape of a rune into Castiel's chest with the tip of his finger. "Probably."

"Then why haven't they rained holy wrath or something down on us?"

He snorts. "First of all, if they wanted us dead, we'd definitely be dead already. Second, the Apocalypse technically hasn't started yet. Angels aren't strictly allowed to take vessels and come down to Earth yet."

"Oh. So all we've technically got to worry about is the psychotic redhead. Good to know." That doesn't ease my worry one bit.

"It's not as if Michael's going to pop down here, if that's what you're concerned about."

"Don't jinx it," I scold, "The last thing we need is Big Brother poking his nose down here."

Gabriel looks up, mildly startled. "Y'know, that's the first time you referred to any of us as your brothers."

"Yeah, well." I shrug one shoulder half-heartedly. "You _are_ my family, whether I remember it or not."

"True." He drops his gaze again, focusing on the edge of the pillow beneath Castiel's head. "And that's good?"

"That's good," I confirm, catching the hesitation in his voice, and the wide smile I receive dissipates any doubt left in me.

"You two are more awkward than even I am," Castiel rasps, cracking his eyes open to glower at us.

"Oh, well, good to know we're setting a new standard for you," Gabriel retorts with a grin, patting Castiel's shoulder, "How're you feeling, Cassie?"

"Tired." Castiel blinks slowly, assessing his own situation. "Weak."

"That's to be expected. You pushed yourself too far." Absently, Gabriel pushes back the hair from Castiel's forehead before catching himself and quickly withdrawing his hand again. "Um, yeah, you should go back to sleep."

Castiel closes his eyes obediently, conveniently unaware of what had just happened, but I can't help but grin. "You big softie."

"Can it, brat." Gabriel pokes my side, earning a giggle. Suddenly, he stiffens, all humor draining from his expression as he gets up, heading over to the window to peer at the dark night sky.

"Gabriel?" I sit up a little straighter, frowning. "What is it?"

He grins wryly, but he continues to stare out the window. "What was it you said about jinxing things?"

"Oh, hell," I groan.

"Yep. And Castiel's not warded enough for Michael to not sense-" Wide golden eyes flick to me. "Shit. He can find you."

"Well, what does that have to do with-?" I don't get the chance to finish, because within the next second, I feel an unfortunately familiar tug around my abdomen.

* * *

I sprawl onto a polished wooden floor. I'm no longer in the motel room, and Gabriel and Castiel are nowhere near me.

"Ariel!" Dean's hands are on my shoulders as he drags me to my feet. I stumble, clinging to the edge of his jacket, and I see a beautiful blonde woman unconscious on the ground. She must be Mary Winchester, Sam and Dean's mom. And further along against the wall is...

"Sam!" I tear out of Dean's hold and drop beside Sam's limp body. His eyes are closed, a dark red stain - blood? - spreading from the center of his shirt. His skin is icy as I grasp his hand. "No! No, _Sam_!" Tears sting my eyes. He can't be dead, he _can't_.

"Air, he's gone," Dean croaks weakly even as he glares at the man in front of him. I hadn't even noticed the stranger before. He has black hair and pale blue eyes, and stands nearly as tall as Dean. I would have guessed him to be John Winchester, but there's something about the way he carries himself that stirs a vague memory in the back of my mind.

"Michael," I breathe, barely aware of speaking, and the man turns to me, smiling lightly.

"Hello, little sister." I tighten my grip on Sam's hand. "Oh, don't worry, I already promised Dean that I would put Sam back together...after we'd spoken, of course." He turns back to Dean, whose glare grows exponentially more furious. "Remember what I said, Dean, when the time comes to make your choice. I'll see you soon." He snaps his fingers and Dean is suddenly gone.

"Where'd you send him?" I demand and Michael turns back to me.

"To his own time, of course. Where else?" I can't come up with an answer and he nods to Sam. "Let him go, Ariel. He needs to be sent back, too." Reluctantly, I lean down to press a kiss to Sam's cold forehead before letting go of his hand. Michael snaps again and Sam's gone, as if he'd never even been there.

"What do you want?" I ask as I get to my feet, standing as tall as I can - and only coming up to Michael's chest. Curse my shortness.

"Just to talk." I cross my arms, a silent invitation for him to keep going. "I believed you to be dead."

"You believed wrong."

His lips purse at my brief answer. "How did you survive?"

"Mind your business."

"You _are_ my business."

"I stopped being your business the day you kicked me out of the family!" I snap.

Michael's eyes widen almost imperceptibly and he looks wounded as he answers, "Ariel, please understand-"

"Understand _what_? That just because I wanted to _talk_ to our brother, you decided to cast me down, too?" I take a step back, a foreign ache in my chest, and I realize what it is at last. Somewhere in the back of my mind, my old self's emotions are bleeding through.

"I was afraid," Michael says quietly and that throws me for a loop. "I was afraid that you would grow to hate the humans as he did, though you loved them at the time. So I took action before you could get the opportunity to commit that crime."

"Would Dad have approved?" I ask impulsively. It's weird to refer to God as 'Dad,' but hey, if the shoe fits...

Michael's jaw clenches. "I wouldn't know. He left long before you were cast down. But you disobeyed a direct order from me, and that is punishable enough."

"But you ordered my death," I protest.

"Because that disobedience could have led to something far worse."

"But how do you _know_?" I prompt, "I could've just said 'hey, how're you doing?' to Lucifer and come straight on back home."

"I wasn't to know that."

"Because you didn't trust me," I realize, the epiphany a heavy weight in my chest, "Because you haven't trusted _anyone_ since Lucifer fell."

Michael does not look happy, clearly angry at the direction the conversation's taken. "The only reason you're still alive is because I want to know how you survived."

"You're an awesome brother," I deadpan, but Michael's hand shoots out, slamming my head against the wall. I see stars for a second as his hand closes around my throat.

"Watch your tongue, _sister_. Now no more stalling. How did you survive? Who protected you?"

"G-Gabriel," I choke out and Michael drops me.

"Gabriel," he repeats, sounding surprised, "He disappeared centuries ago. I suppose it figures that you went to him for help, though. You were always so close to him when you two were young." I rub my throat, knowing it's going to bruise - damn it, just when the bruises Dean had left were disappearing, too - and just stare up at Michael. "Well, then. It's time I had a talk with our wayward brother and you went back to your proper time."

"Don't hurt him," I blurt out, "He was just protecting me."

Michael looks almost annoyed by the request, but then he nods. "You have my word." Wait, _what_? Before I can ask him why the sudden change of mood, he snaps his fingers.

* * *

I collapse onto a stiff motel mattress.

"Ariel!" Sam scoops me up and hugs me tightly. He's alive. He's warm and real and _alive_. I bury my face into his chest out of sheer relief. Sam's fingers card through my hair reassuringly and I snuggle closer, tightening my grasp on his stupid plaid shirt. Seriously, does he own, like, ten copies of the same shirt?

"So what did that dickbag want with you?" Dean demands and I let go of Sam long enough to shrug.

"Nothing. Just wanted to know how I was still alive. He thought I'd been killed a long time ago." Dean eyes me suspiciously. "That's the truth," I assure him, "No more secrets."

"Promise?"

"What do you want me to do, pinky swear?" I stick my little finger out and am surprised when Dean hooks his own pinky around it with a wry grin.

"It _is_ the most serious of oaths," Sam comments and Dean flips him off without missing a beat.

"Damn, I've missed you two," I admit and Dean wraps an arm around my shoulders, embracing me gently. I clutch him back, pressing my face against his shoulder. "I'm sorry," I mumble, "I should've told you sooner about everything, I'm so sorry."

"Just shut up, kid," Dean mutters against my hair and I obediently fall silent, settling for letting him squeeze the living daylights out of me.

"Cas," Sam says suddenly and Dean lets me go so that I can see the trenchcoat-clad angel wobbling unsteadily in front of us.

"Whoa, whoa, hey!" Dean darts forward to catch Castiel. "You son of a bitch, you made it!"

"I did?" Castiel cracks his eyes open to blink at all of us bemusedly. "I'm very surprised." With that, he passes out, and Dean drags him over to the unoccupied motel bed, laying him down on it.

"He's not the only one." I look up from examining Castiel's pale face to see Gabriel leaning heavily against the wall. His posture looks casual, but his face is drawn and exhausted.

"Are you okay?" I ask even as he drops onto the couch, rubbing his forehead.

"You try jumping thirty-odd years after pouring a crap ton of healing energy into someone." He gives me a weary smile all the same. "I'm okay, sweetheart. Just had an unexpected - not to mention unwanted - talk with big bro."

"He didn't hurt you, did he?" I sit down next to him.

He blinks at me. "Why would he have hurt me?"

"For protecting me."

He rolls his eyes. "Don't be so dramatic. I'm fine." I press my face into his shoulder, anyway, and he wraps an arm around me in return, pressing a kiss against the top of my head. "Look, I'd hate to run and ditch you, but I've got something to drop off back home, so-"

"No, go, it's okay." I pull back and he nods before snapping his fingers. He's gone in the next second.

"Damn," Dean says, slightly stunned, and I turn back to face him and Sam. They both look a little surprised. "He really does have a heart."

"He's not _just_ a trickster," I say, offended.

"Yeah, guess we're just gonna have to get used to that." Dean pours out two cups of some alcohol, handing one to Sam and knocking his own back. "So this is it."

"What is?" Sam takes a sip of his own drink.

"Team Free Will. One ex-blood junkie, one dropout with six bucks to his name, one fallen archangel with no memories or go-juice, and Mr. Comatose over there." Dean jerks his head towards the unconscious Castiel on the bed.

"Well, we've got Gabriel, too," I point out.

"Oh, yeah, my mistake, add 'trickster archangel' to the list." Dean rolls his eyes. "Go team."

"It's not funny," Sam scolds.

"I'm not laughing." Dean pours himself another drink.

"They all say we'll say 'yes,'" Sam says after a few moments of silence.

"I know. It's getting annoying."

"What if they're right?" I'm getting the feeling I shouldn't be a part of this conversation, so I simply move over to Castiel's side, grasping the angel's hand.

"They're not." Dean takes a swig of his drink.

"I mean, why would we, either of us?" Sam hesitates. "But I've been weak before. And Michael got Dad to say yes." So that _was_ John Winchester.

"That was different," Dean dismisses, "Anna was about to kill Mom."

"And if you could save Mom?" Sam looks up at Dean bleakly. "What would you say?"

Dean remains silent and I cough, looking down at the bland motel bedspread.

"Don't think we've forgotten about you, Ariel," Dean scolds lightly, as if the previous conversation had never happened. I look back up at him and Sam, startled. "You're telling us everything. Like, from the start."

"_Everything_?" I echo.

"Yep." Sam sits down on the edge of the other bed. "If you're on our side, we need you to tell us everything you know."

I nod. After all, I'd promised them no more secrets. "Okay." And with that, I start telling them everything I've been told so far.

* * *

**And there's the official induction of Ariel and Gabriel into Team Free Will - technically - which concludes _The Song Remains The Same_. And also Ariel's first meeting with Michael.**

**It seemed so much more dramatic in my head, but when I typed it out, my Michael-muse just went "fuck this" and disappeared. Oh, well.**

**I did get my Cadbury Creme Eggs, so here. -shares- Enjoy and leave reviews!**


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter** **21**

* * *

_**Then:**_

_"Don't think we've forgotten about you, Ariel," Dean scolds lightly, as if the previous conversation had never happened. I look back up at him and Sam, startled. "You're telling us everything. Like, from the start."_

_"Everything?" I echo._

_"Yep." Sam sits down on the edge of the other bed. "If you're on our side, we need you to tell us everything you know."_

_I nod. After all, I'd promised them no more secrets. "Okay." And with that, I start telling them everything I've been told so far._

**_Now:_**

The best thing about living with Gabriel now is that we've kidnapped Castiel, too, until he's got his full strength back. During this time, I've taken it upon myself to educate Castiel in the ways of human things.

"Cas, it's hot chocolate, not poison. Except maybe to Cola." I pointedly glare at the dog, who's attempting to jump up and snag a little hot chocolate from my mug. He whines and gives up, moving over to his pile of newspapers in the corner to chew on a rawhide bone.

Castiel frowns at his own mug. "It's milk with cocoa powder."

"Exactly! What's not to love?" Gabriel pipes up as he flicks a page of his _Weekly World News_ magazine. Hesitantly, Castiel takes a sip of the hot chocolate and his eyes double in size.

"See?" I grin. "Gabe, I think we've corrupted him."

"Awesome." The archangel high-fives me even as Castiel takes another tentative sip from the mug. "Any news from Dumb and Dumber?"

"No, and be nice." I hadn't spoken to the Winchesters since we'd returned from 1978 over a week ago and they'd had me spill as much of my life story as I know to them. They had reacted as I had expected them to: mostly with "uh-huh"s and "okay"s with the occasional "what the fuck" thrown in, especially when I mentioned offhandedly that Gabriel and I are apparently twins. It was a step in the right direction, though, telling them everything, and I plan to keep that level of trust between us.

"Which one is which?" Castiel asks absently and I gape at him.

"Cas!"

"Oh, Dumber is definitely Dean-o," Gabriel clarifies cheerfully, "Dumb is Sammy. He _did_ go to Stanford."

"You people are horrible!" I scold them both and Castiel has the decency to look ashamed. My phone buzzes in my pocket and I tug it out to check the caller ID: _Sam_. "Speak of the Devil's vessel." I flip it open. "Hey, Sam."

"_Air, you're a med kid, right?_" Sam asks, sounding a little flustered.

"Uhh, I've done a couple dissections, if that's what you're after," I say, wracking my brain to figure out what kind of situation the Winchesters would be in.

"_Awesome. We've kind of got a heart here and, uh...don't really know where to start._"

"A _human_ heart?" Sam's silence confirms it. "Where are you, a coroner's office?" I demand.

"_Yep. St. James Medical Center._"

Gabriel scowls when I shoot him a look. "No, absolutely not."

"_What's with Gabriel_?" Sam asks, bewildered.

"Oh, he doesn't want me coming over there myself. Here, duke it out with him." I toss the phone over to Gabriel, who snatches it out of the air and holds it to his ear.

"No way, Sasquatch, she's not getting involved in one of your cases." He pauses. "What do you mean, 'she's already been involved?' I don't care!"

"We did sign up for Team Free Will," I point out, "And if you don't take me, Cas will. Right, Cas?"

Castiel looks wide-eyed because of the sudden glare from Gabriel aimed his way, but he nods. "If Ariel wishes to go."

"Traitors, both of you," Gabriel mutters, "Which room, Jolly Green?"

"I think he's running out of nicknames," I stage-whisper to Castiel, who quirks a small smile as Gabriel cradles the phone with his shoulder, reaching out for both of us even as Sam tells us the location. We're off in the next instant.

* * *

Sam's still on the phone when we land in the middle of the coroner's office and Dean grins as the taller Winchester turns around, jumping a little in surprise when he sees us.

"I'm gonna hang up now," Gabriel tells him cheerfully.

"Yeah, do that." Sam clicks off his phone and Gabriel hands me my phone back. I shove it into my pocket.

"You know how to dissect a heart?" Dean asks, holding up the heart in question. It squelches in his hand and I'm relieved he's wearing gloves.

"I've dissected a pig's heart and it's pretty much the same as a human's anatomically." I grab a pair of gloves, too. "Scoot over, Winchester." Dean obediently moves to stand near Castiel, holding his hands up in defeat.

"You're the med kid." I try to ignore how squishy and wet the heart feels, even through the gloves, as I pick it up, turning it contemplatively.

"Can't remember if it's supposed to be dorsal or ventral..." I find the right side and lay it back down on the tray, taking a scalpel and slicing a thin line through the center of the heart. Thank goodness for biology labs - they actually teach you the useful stuff. I catch sight of a weird squiggle engraved into the wall of the heart. "Hey, there's something here." I pin back the flap that I'd cut, squinting at the squiggle. It looks vaguely familiar, like something I'd once seen in a book in Gabriel's library. "Is that Enochian?" I point it out to Castiel, who frowns at it before nodding.

"Yes. These are angelic marks."

"There's some on the other one, too," I note, looking at the partially-dissected heart in the other tray, courtesy of Sam's awful lab skills. No wonder he'd gone into pre-law.

"I imagine you'll find similar marks on the other couples' hearts as well," Castiel comments.

"It's a mark of union," Gabriel adds, peering over my shoulder at the writing, "These two were probably meant to do it like they do on the Discovery Channel."

"First of all, too much info," I scold, pointing the scalpel at him in warning. He throws his hands up in defeat, grinning. "Second, what do you mean by 'mark of union?'"

"Yeah, who put them there?" Dean demands.

"Your people call them 'Cupid,'" Castiel says, "Technically it's a cherub, third-class."

"Cherub?" Sam echoes.

"Yeah, there are tons of 'em," Gabriel explains with a shrug.

"Aren't cherubs those little flying fat kids in diapers?" I ask blankly as I set the scalpel down, peeling off my bloody gloves and lobbing them at the trashcan.

"They're not incontinent." Castiel frowns at me, confused, and I resist the urge to facepalm.

"So Cupid's gone rogue and we've gotta stop him before he kills again," Dean summarizes, grimacing, "Awesome."

* * *

"Share that," I command and Gabriel obediently nudges his ice cream sundae over to me. I happily eat a spoonful of chocolate ice cream with Nutella on it while Dean squirts ketchup onto his cheeseburger. Sam pokes at his salad while Castiel simply studies the restaurant we're in now, frowning.

"So, what, you just happen to know he likes the cosmos at this place?" Dean asks, raising an eyebrow at the angels.

"This place is a nexus of human reproduction. It's exactly the kind of-" Castiel breaks off and I look up to see him staring at Dean's burger thoughtfully. "-of garden that the cherub will come to pollinate."

Gabriel glances at Castiel before raising an eyebrow at me. I shrug; I haven't seen Castiel this interested in human food since a few days ago when I'd made chocolate chip cookies and forced him to try the raw batter. That, too, had required an outside influence for Castiel to be anything more than mildly curious. He's now eyeing that burger like he wants to grab it out of Dean's hands.

Dean puts it down, anyway, and Sam frowns. "Wait a minute. You're not hungry?"

"No." Sam's eyebrows shoot up. "What? I'm not hungry," Dean says defensively. Now that's weird; I know Dean's like a bottomless pit when it comes to food, and now he's declining it?

"Then you're not going to eat that?" We all stare at Castiel as he takes the burger from Dean's plate.

"Have we entered the Twilight Zone?" Sam asks me, bewildered, before turning an accusing glare on Gabriel. "Did you send us to the Twilight Zone?"

"Oh, ye of little faith." Gabriel shoves a spoonful of vanilla ice cream into his mouth defiantly. "I didn't do jack."

"No, Rose did," I quip before I can stop myself and Gabriel looks briefly shocked before grinning widely.

"I'm so proud of you." Even if it's just a bad joke, something inside me warms at the praise.

Dean snorts and when we all look at him, he shrugs. "Hey, Kate Winslet was hot." Typical.

Castiel suddenly looks up, staring at a corner of the restaurant. He hasn't even eaten a single bite of the burger. "He's here." Gabriel stiffens, looking in the same direction as Castiel.

"My senses are a little rusty," he says ruefully, "Mind clarifying, kiddo?"

"The same-side-of-the-booth couple over there?" Dean guesses blankly, glancing over his shoulder.

"Meet me in the back." With that, Castiel disappears and with an exasperated sigh, Gabriel does, too, leaving me, Dean, and Sam to scramble out of our seats and head for the back room of the restaurant.

The room is dull and gray and empty, aside from the two angels there.

"Where is he?" Sam asks, looking around.

"We have him tethered," Castiel says gruffly and murmurs something in Enochian to the empty room before adding, "Manifest yourself." Unconsciously, I shuffle closer to Gabriel and the archangel wraps an arm around my shoulder, squeezing me close.

"So where is he?" Dean asks blankly before suddenly letting out an "_oof_!"

"Here I am!" We all spin around to see a very large, very _naked_ man hugging the life out of Dean.

"Help!" Dean chokes and I bite my lip in an attempt not to laugh.

"Oh, help is on the way. Yes, it is. Yes, it is." Cupid snuggles Dean some more before dropping him and moving on to Castiel. "Hello, you!" I avert my gaze from the nakedness.

"This is Cupid?" Dean demands breathlessly.

"Yes," Castiel grunts as Cupid squeezes him tightly before setting him down again.

Gabriel doesn't seem bothered as he cheerfully embraces Cupid, patting the guy's back. "Good to see you, too, buddy."

Cupid actually gasps when he sees me and tears well up in his eyes. "Oh, it's _you_! I've _missed_ you!" I don't have time to back away as he literally lifts me off the ground and squeezes me until I'm scared my eyes are going to pop out of my skull.

"Um...hi?" I say weakly when he sets me down. He kisses my cheek, beaming, before turning to Sam.

"And look at _you_."

"No." Sam's eyes double in size as he turns, heading for the door, but Cupid stops him by appearing in front of him, hugging him tightly.

"Yes, yes, yes!" Sam looks mortified. I give up trying to hold back my laughter.

"Is this a fight? Are we in a fight?" Dean asks, startled.

"This is their handshake," Gabriel snickers, just as amused as I am.

"I don't like it," Dean decides.

"No one likes it," Castiel replies, sounding disgruntled.

Finally, Cupid pats Sam's back and lets him go. "So what can I do for you?"

"Why are you doing this?" Castiel demands.

"Doing what?" Cupid blinks, confused.

"Your targets are killing each other and themselves," Gabriel explains.

"What? They are?" Cupid's eyes widen, making him look like a kicked puppy.

"Listen, birthday suit, we know, okay?" Dean snaps, the hilarity of the situation frustrating him to the point of losing it. "We know you've been flittin' around, popping people with your poison arrow, making them murder each other!"

"You...you think _I_...? Well, uh...I don't know what to say." Cupid promptly bursts into tears, covering his face and turning away.

"Oh, this just got awkward fast," Gabriel mutters.

"Um." Sam rubs the back of his neck. "Should someone go talk to him?" Everyone looks at me.

"Why?" I ask plaintively.

"You're a chick, you get things like emotion." Dean nudges me forward. "Work your girly magic." I flip him off over my shoulder even as I edge towards the crying cherub.

"Um..." I tap Cupid's shoulder. _Damn it, why can't he at least wear underwear?_ "We're very sorry, Mr. Cupid, we didn't mean to, uh...hurt your feelings." Abruptly, he turns around and literally glomps me. I wince as my ribs are bruised by the force.

"Love is more than a word to me, you know," Cupid sobs against the top of my head, "I love love. I love it! And if that's wrong, I don't want to be right!"

"Oh, um, yeah, that...totally makes sense." I awkwardly pat his back. Is that Sam snickering behind me? I'm going to kill him.

Cupid sniffles once more and pulls back, looking up at the others. "I was just on my appointed rounds. Whatever my targets do after that, that's nothing to do with me. I-I was following my orders." He glances at Castiel and Gabriel next. "Please, brothers. Read my mind. Read my mind, you'll see."

"He's telling the truth," Gabriel says after a brief pause. Castiel nods in agreement.

Cupid rolls his eyes in relief. "Jiminy Christmas. Thank you."

"Wait, wait, you said you were following orders?" Dean says, raising an eyebrow. "Whose orders?"

Cupid giggles. "Well, Heaven, silly!"

"Why does Heaven care if Harry meets Sally?"

"Oh, mostly they don't. You know, certain bloodlines, certain destinies. Oh, like yours." I can tell things are going south by the way Dean's expression darkens dangerously.

"What?" Sam asks.

"Yeah, the union of John and Mary Winchester. Very big deal upstairs, top priority arrangement." Cupid nods, oblivious to the Winchesters' rage.

"Are you saying that you fixed up our parents?" Dean says coldly. I inch away from Cupid and them, hiding behind Gabriel.

"Well, not _me_, but yeah." Cupid shrugs. "Well, it wasn't easy, either. Ooh, they couldn't stand each other at first. But when we were done with them? Perfect couple."

"Perfect?" Dean echoes. "They're _dead_!"

Cupid frowns then. "I'm sorry, but...the orders were very clear. You and Sam needed to be born. Your parents were just, uh...meant to be." He grins and if that's not bad enough, he sings, "A match made in Heaven~!"

Really, no one else is surprised when Dean punches him. Cupid looks affronted and disappears.

"I believe you upset him," Castiel states the obvious.

"Dean, you just punched Cupid," Sam says, sounding scandalized.

"I punched a dick," Dean grumbles.

I can feel a headache coming on. I'm starting to wish we'd stayed home.

* * *

"Well, whatever the pattern is, it ain't just love," Gabriel notes as he pops into the motel room, files in hand. He flicks through the papers, skimming them. "The police blotter says there's been eight suicides and eighteen overdoses in the past week."

"Way above seasonal batting average," Dean confirms, frowning, "And make it nineteen, Sam's just been called down to the station for another one. The guy died - believe it or not - from a Twinkie binge."

"Ooh." Gabriel looks contemplative. "What a way to go, though."

"Time and place," I scold and he looks unrepentant even as he squeezes my shoulders in a half-embrace. That warm fuzzy feeling in my chest returns and I lean into the embrace slightly.

It's then Sam enters the room, clutching a black briefcase.

"What the hell is that?" Dean asks as Sam tosses it onto the table.

"No idea. A demon had it outside the station."

"What does a demon have to do with all this?" I ask, surprised, "I thought it was something to do with Cupid."

"Awesome, now we've got both Heaven and hell on the chessboard," Gabriel complains.

"You okay?" Dean asks and it's then that I see how pale Sam is, not to mention the slight trembling of his hands.

"Yeah, I'm fine." Gabriel's studying Sam, too, frowning in concern.

"Well, let's crack her open," Dean suggests, turning to the briefcase, "What's the worst that could happen, right?"

"Famous last words," Gabriel deadpans as I move over to the briefcase, undoing the latches and pulling open the lid. There's a bright light inside, which quickly zooms upwards, knocking me backwards as it disappears into the ceiling.

"Ariel!" Sam's at my side first, helping me to my feet.

"Oww." I rub my chin, where the light had made impact, and pout. "The light hit me."

Gabriel snickers. "Don't be such a drama queen. That was a soul."

"A soul can sucker-punch people?" Dean asks, raising an eyebrow.

"No, but it makes more sense as to what's going on." We turn to see Castiel with a fast food bag in his hand. He withdraws a burger from it.

I blink. "Did I hit my head when that soul smacked me or-?"

"No, you're not hallucinating," Sam tells me, patting my shoulder.

"When did you start eating?" Dean demands.

"Exactly. My hunger - it's a clue, actually." Castiel takes a bite of his burger. "This town is not suffering from some love-gone-wrong effect. It's suffering from hunger. Starvation, to be exact."

"Famine," Gabriel realizes, closing his eyes wearily. "Fantastic."

"The Horseman?" Sam looks at Gabriel, bewildered. "I thought famine meant starvation, like food."

"Yes and no, it's pretty much anything. Everyone seems to be starving for something, like sex, attention, drugs, love..." Gabriel shrugs.

"Well, that explains the puppy-lovers," Dean notes.

"The cherub made them crave love, and then Famine came, and made them rabid for it," Castiel confirms.

"Okay, but what about you? I mean, since when do angels secretly hunger for White Castle?" Dean points out.

Castiel looks embarrassed. "It's my vessel, Jimmy. His, uh, appetite for red meat has been touched by Famine's effect."

"So Famine just rolls into town and everybody goes crazy?" Sam raises an eyebrow.

"'And then will come Famine riding on a black steed. He will ride into the land of plenty, and great will be the Horseman's hunger, for he is hunger,'" Castiel quotes.

"'His hunger will seep out and poison the air,'" Gabriel adds, grimacing.

"Famine is hungry. He must devour the souls of his victims," Castiel explains.

"So that was the Twinkie dude's soul in the briefcase?" Dean asks and I feel less annoyed at the soul for hitting me.

"Lucifer has sent his demons to care for Famine, to feed him, make certain he'll be ready."

"For what?"

"To march across the land, what else?" Gabriel rubs his forehead. "Damn it."

"You're not hungry for anything, are you?" I look up at the archangel, who shakes his head.

"Nah, I'm good. Archangels aren't really affected by Horsemen. I guess that explains why you're not really feeling anything, either." I shrug. "We should stop Famine."

"Well, War got his mojo from his ring, so maybe Famine's got one, too," Dean suggests.

"Of course he has." Castiel finishes his burger and looks at the empty fast food bag sadly.

"Okay, then, let's track him down and get to chopping," Dean says pointedly and Castiel reluctantly looks away from the paper bag. "What are you, the Hamburglar?"

"I've developed a taste for ground beef," Castiel notes.

"Have you even tried to stop it?" Dean accuses.

"I'm an angel, I can stop anytime I want," Castiel says, insulted.

I can see Gabriel grinning out of the corner of my eye. "You know, most addicts say the same thing." Castiel scowls at him.

"Whatever," Dean dismisses, "Sam, let's roll."

"I, um...I can't." Sam looks ashamed as he leans against the wall heavily.

"What do you mean?" Dean demands.

"I think it got to me, Dean. I think I'm hungry for it..."

"It?" I echo and Sam gives me a pitifully sad look.

"You know."

"Demon blood," Dean says and the verbal confirmation hits me like a punch to the stomach. "You've got to be kidding me." Sam hangs his head. "You've got to get him out of here. You've got to beam him to, like, Montana. Anywhere but here," Dean says desperately, turning to Gabriel, who shakes his head.

"It's too late, the hunger will just follow him."

"Just go cut that bastard's finger off." Sam looks even worse than he did before now, his forehead covered in a sheen of sweat. "Before you go, though, lock me down. But good."

And that's how we find ourselves handcuffing Sam to the pipe below the sink in the bathroom.

"Hang in there," Dean reassures him, "We'll be back as soon as we can."

"Be careful. And hurry." Sam smiles weakly and I can't help but kneel down and hug him tightly, wrapping my arms around his chest. He rests his chin against the top of my head. "I'd hug you back, but, uh..." He rattles the cuffs a little.

"I know." I kiss his cheek. "You'll be okay."

"I know," he teases lightly, nudging my leg with his foot. "Go on, midget." I stick my tongue out at him as I get up and follow Dean, Gabriel, and Castiel - who somehow has a new burger in his hand - out the door. I try not to think about the broken look on Sam's face as I shut the door behind me and Dean starts moving a dresser to block the door.

* * *

"So the doctor drank himself to death?" I ask as Dean climbs back into the Impala after leaving St. James Medical Center. Gabriel and I have been delegated to waiting in the car, and I'm leaning against his side, half-asleep with boredom at having to wait.

"Apparently, but Cas said his soul hasn't been harvested yet. So we're gonna have to play stake-out." I groan at the thought of more waiting. As if on cue, Castiel appears with another burger.

"Seriously?" Gabriel complains, "How many is that, bro?"

"Lost count." Castiel takes a bite. "It's somewhere in the low hundreds." Dean whistles, impressed.

"Anyway, what I don't understand is where your hunger is, Dean," Gabriel adds, turning to the hunter.

"Me?" Dean looks confused.

"Actually, I noticed that, too. You're totally unaffected," I point out.

"Hey, when I want to drink, I drink. When I want sex, I go get it. Same goes for a sandwich or a fight," Dean says simply.

"So you're saying you're well-adjusted," Castiel notes, finishing the burger.

"Nah, I'm just well-fed." Dean shrugs. "On that note, fallen archangel or not, Ariel's human. For all intents and purposes, she should be feeling something, too."

I shake my head. "I've got nothing."

"What can I say? My sister's just awesome like that," Gabriel teases, looping his arm around my shoulders and the warmth in my chest returns, spreading even more as I curl up against his side, closing my eyes contentedly. I miss the pointed looks Gabriel and Dean exchange.

"Look there." I reluctantly open my eyes to see two men looking around before getting into a black van across the street, a black briefcase in hand. Dean starts up the car and turns the wheel sharply so that we can follow them. The van stops outside a restaurant which has no lights on, and so do we. "So what's the plan, Happy Meal?" Dean turns to Castiel, who's snacking on another burger. "Dude, seriously?"

"Enabler," I scold Gabriel, who shrugs.

"Hey, he glares until I give him one."

"Fine, I take it back, you're just a softie." He rolls his eyes at me.

"The plan?" Dean prompts, distracting us.

"We go in, cut the ring off Famine, and meet you back here in the parking lot," Castiel says.

"We?" I echo and Gabriel raises an eyebrow at me.

"Me and him. We're the only ones capable of getting to Famine." And then the panic hits. I don't want Gabriel to go. I want him to stay right next to me, where it's warm and safe and - "Damn it," Gabriel murmurs and I realize he's staring at me.

"What?" I blink.

"Famine _did_ get to you, you just didn't realize it." He looks up at Dean, who looks totally lost. "She needs to be near me. That's what Famine's making her crave." Dean's expression clears with understanding even as Gabriel turns back to me. "Ariel, it'll only be a few minutes, but I have to go."

"Please don't leave me." The plea slips out before I can stop it and a raw, wounded look flashes across Gabriel's face. I press my face against his shoulder. "Please."

"I'll be right back." He and Castiel are gone in the next second and I catch myself before I fall forward.

"Air, it's just a few minutes," Dean reassures me, but I shake my head, glancing at the dark windows of the restaurant worriedly as anxiety gnaws at my insides. What if something's happened to them? What if they're hurt, or worse?

* * *

We barely make it more than two minutes of my fidgeting and Dean's frayed nerves.

"Screw it," Dean mutters and gets out of the car. I scramble to follow him through the back of the restaurant and into the kitchen. It's scattered with dead bodies and my anxiety grows worse as I huddle against Dean's side. He grasps my shoulder gently, the touch offering me barely any comfort as we step through to the main dining area.

Castiel's on the floor, stuffing his face with raw ground meat, and I can't help but wrinkle my nose. Gabriel's pinned to the other wall by an invisible force, struggling against it.

"Should've known," he grumbles, "Powers don't work around a Horseman."

"Of course they don't," a wheezy voice answers and Dean and I wheel around to see an old man sitting in a wheelchair. There are tubes providing him with oxygen, and he looks generally emaciated and weak. "I am older than you, boy. You think your tricks will work on me?" He flicks a bony wrist and Gabriel crumples to the floor. I make it across the room to him in record time, clinging to him desperately.

"It's okay, I'm okay," he murmurs against my hair, holding me tightly as I bury my face into his shoulder. It's warm in his arms, and I'm happy and content for the first time in a long while, and I don't want him to ever let go. I don't even care that Famine's demons have a hold of Dean, or that the Horseman is slowly wheeling over to us, but I do notice when he starts talking.

"Her reaction's weak, relatively speaking. Maybe because of her true nature bleeding through, despite her mortal form?"

"Fix her," Gabriel snaps, tightening his grasp on me, "Whatever you did to her, you reverse it."

"Or what, little archangel? You'll glare at me?" Famine laughs hoarsely. "No, whatever is wrong with her is whatever her soul yearns for, and what she wants, she can't have. Her family's acceptance, her brothers' _love_." I press closer to Gabriel, shutting my eyes as if that'll drown out Famine's creaky voice. "So she clings to whatever she can get." He pauses. "What a bright soul she has. Delicious."

"So this is your big trick, huh? Making people cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs?" Dean snaps and Famine's attention finally turns away from me and to him.

"Doesn't take much. Hardly a push. Oh, America - all-you-can-eat, all the time. Consume, consume. A swarm of locusts in stretch pants. And yet, you're all still starving because hunger doesn't just come from the body, it also comes from the soul."

"Funny, it doesn't seem to come from mine," Dean notes.

"Yes. I noticed that. Have you wondered why that is? How you could even walk in my presence?" I can sense more than see Famine tilting his head as I tighten my grip on Gabriel. He squeezes me back gently, pressing a kiss into my hair. It feels nice, and I melt into the gentle touch.

"I like to think it's my strength of character," Dean snarks.

"I disagree." Famine's wheelchair whirs as he moves closer to Dean. "Yes. I see. That's one deep, dark nothing you got there, Dean. Can't fill it, can you? Not with food or drink. Not even with sex." He laughs hoarsely.

Dean grunts. "You're so full of crap."

"Oh, you can smirk and joke and lie to your brother, lie to _yourself_, but not to me! I can see inside you, Dean. I can see how broken you are, how defeated. You can't win, and you know it. But you just keep fighting. Just...keep going through the motions. You're not hungry, Dean, because inside, you're already...dead."

"Let him go." Sam's voice causes me to tear myself out of Gabriel's embrace, startled by his sudden appearance. Sam's mouth is smeared with red and I realize with a sickening jolt that it's demon blood.

"Sammy, no!" Dean shouts as two of the demons lining the walls move to attack Sam.

"Stop!" Everyone freezes as Famine grins, his yellowing teeth bared. "No one lays a finger on this sweet little boy. Sam, I see you got the snack I sent you."

"You sent-?" Sam begins, his eyes narrowing.

"Don't worry. You're not like everyone else. You'll never die from drinking too much. You're the exception that proves the rule. Just the way...Satan wanted you to be. So..." Famine waves his hand absently. "Cut their throats. Have at them!" The demons hover, glancing nervously between the Horseman and Sam.

"Sammy, _no_!" Dean repeats, sounding much more desperate.

"No." With a twitch of his hand, all five demons in the room smoke out of their bodies, which crumple to the floor, and gather in a pile near Famine.

"Well, fine. If you don't want them, then _I'll_ have them." The smoke flies into Famine's mouth and I grimace at the sickening sight as Famine smacks his lips, satisfied. Sam steps forward, raising his hand as his eyebrows furrow in concentration. "I'm a Horseman, Sam. Your power doesn't work on me." Famine rolls his eyes.

"No. But it'll work on _them_." Sam clenches his fist and the demon souls inside Famine stir. Sam's jaw clenches as his nose starts bleeding, but he keeps concentrating until the demon souls burst out of Famine. The Horseman slumps in his wheelchair and Sam stumbles over to him, sliding the ring off his finger.

Just like that, all the anxiety of being away from Gabriel disappears, but I still cling to him as much as I can, shaken by what had just happened. Gabriel just holds me close wordlessly.

* * *

It's not a long drive to Bobby's place, and by the time Dean and I get Sam strapped down into the panic room bed, he's already shaking from demon blood withdrawal.

"Air, go," he says through clenched teeth even as I grab his hand.

"I'm not leaving you like this," I protest.

He shakes his head. "I don't want you to see. Please." His entire body is tense and he's covered in a sheen of sweat, but I ignore that as I squeeze his hand gently.

"Okay. We'll be right outside." I kiss his forehead and he wrinkles his nose at me with a weak smile before I force myself to let go of his hand and back out of the panic room. Dean closes the door behind me, bolting it shut, and that's when the screaming starts.

I swallow, resisting the urge to unlock the door and run back to Sam's side, and Dean shakes his head, patting my shoulder briefly before heading for the stairs, a hollow look on his face.

"Hey." I catch up to him at the foot of the stairs, grabbing his hand. Dean looks at me blankly. "What Famine said, I can tell you that's all crap."

"Yeah?" Dean quirks a tired smile. "How do you know?"

"'Cause if you were dead inside, it wouldn't hurt you so much to hear Sam like this." As if on cue, Sam screams again, this time a plea for help, and Dean's expression becomes shuttered. "That right there?" I point at his face. "Doesn't look dead to me."

"Air, I-" Dean's voice breaks and he shuts his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I _can't_," he breathes and I don't know if he's talking to me anymore. "Just...not now. Please."

"Okay." What else can I say? I just follow Dean upstairs, but he goes outside after grabbing a beer bottle from the fridge. Castiel and Bobby are quietly talking in the study, leaving me to hop up onto the kitchen counter next to the table, swinging my legs childishly as Gabriel looks up from the magazine he's skimming.

"You wanna talk about it?" He doesn't need to clarify what he's referring to.

"Not really." Already, I'm feeling pangs of shame for being so clingy.

"Sure about that?" He nudges my foot with his.

"Pretty sure." I shrug. "Just makes me wonder how much of that was me and how much of that was old me."

"Well, you were just as clingy back then, so who knows?" He grins at the scowl I shoot him before his expression softens. "You're allowed to ask me for stuff, you know. You could ask me to stay."

"Yeah, well, I'm just too good." And I've asked enough of him as it is. Gabriel's lips purse, as if he senses my train of thought, but he doesn't say anything. I'm grateful for that.

* * *

**I actually finished it in one chapter! I didn't even think I would, too! -parties- Theoretically, I could've split it into two chapters, too, but I figured there's no point, since the entire chapter doesn't really seem to have a midpoint that allows for easy splitting. So here's _My Bloody Valentine_, all wrapped up and done.**

**Also, wtf is up with FF's new format and weird font. -totally freaked out right now-**

**Leave reviews!**


	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter 22**

* * *

_**Then:**_

_"You wanna talk about it?" He doesn't need to clarify what he's referring to._

_"Not really." Already, I'm feeling pangs of shame for being so clingy._

_"Sure about that?" He nudges my foot with his._

_"Pretty sure." I shrug. "Just makes me wonder how much of that was me and how much of that was old me."_

_"Well, you were just as clingy back then, so who knows?" He grins at the scowl I shoot him before his expression softens. "You're allowed to ask me for stuff, you know. You could ask me to stay."_

_"Yeah, well, I'm just too good." And I've asked enough of him as it is. Gabriel's lips purse, as if he senses my train of thought, but he doesn't say anything. I'm grateful for that._

**_Now:_**

Sam recovers about halfway through the night, long after Dean returns to the house with suspiciously red and puffy eyes, and I give in to unlocking the panic room door and curling up on the bed next to Sam.

"You're all sweaty," I tell him, wrinkling my nose, and he rolls his eyes at me tiredly. The withdrawal must have worn him out.

"Shouldn't've come in here, then." He yawns and ruffles my hair before tugging me against his side and closing his eyes. "You make a pretty good little sister, y'know. Kinda makes me jealous of the angels."

I grin. "I'm just that awesome, I guess." He hums quietly in agreement before his arms go slack around me slowly, his chin resting against the top of my head. His breathing evens out into quiet snoring, and I'm half-tempted to get my phone out to record it. I decide against it in the end, weariness spreading through my limbs as I sink against Sam's chest and slip into unconsciousness, too.

* * *

Soft sniggers draw me out of my sleep.

"Aww, ain't that adorable," Dean cooes mockingly.

"I don't know whether I should take a picture or draw Sharpie mustaches on 'em," Gabriel snickers under his breath and I sleepily bat at him. I miss by a mile.

"Draw it on the moose," I mumble without opening my eyes, which earns a new wave of laughter from Dean and Gabriel.

Sam makes a drowsy protesting noise in response. "Don't even try it."

"All right, fine, Sammy the Octopus. Let go of the kid so I can take her home." Sam's arms slide out from around me and I miss their warmth, but they're replaced by Gabriel as he scoops me up. "Don't give me that look, Dean-o, I _am_ stronger than I look." I stifle a yawn as I press my face into Gabriel's shoulder and he shifts me closer to his chest. "Okay, Ariel, say bye-bye to the Winchesters."

I brandish my middle finger in Dean's general direction and the older Winchester snorts in response. "Yeah, you two are definitely related."

Gabriel says with a hint of pride in his voice, "That's my girl."

Before I even realize we've left the panic room, I'm being placed down on a soft bed that I vaguely recognize as my own. It's strange how I've come to think of my room in Gabriel's house as...well, _mine_.

"Go back to sleep." Gabriel's hand cards through my hair and I lean into the touch absently. "I'll be downstairs if you need me."

"'Kay. Thanks." I stifle another yawn as I tug the covers more securely around myself.

"No problem." I feel his thumb brush against my cheek before he gets up and the door clicks shut behind him. Sleep finds me not long after that.

* * *

A few days pass and I notice a pattern: Gabriel's no longer popping in and out of the house like he used to whenever he felt a douchebag needed to be taught a lesson. Instead, he's sticking around whichever room of the house I happen to be in - like if I was in the kitchen, he'd be in the connected living room, or if I was in the library, he'd be in another room nearby.

Not to mention how touchy-feely he's suddenly gotten. I mean, it's not as if we haven't hugged or anything in the past, but now he keeps finding random reasons to express affection, like patting my shoulder whenever he passes me or ruffling my hair whenever I'm leaving the room.

I know why Gabriel's turned over a new leaf: because of the incident with Famine. Because the Horseman had spilled my big secret about wanting to be loved, Gabriel's going out of his way to prove that he cares about me. But by the time Sam calls with an update on their latest case, I'm fed up with it.

So when Sam suggests that I come over to Bobby's place for a little while - from what I understand, Sioux Falls had been overrun with zombies, including one Karen Singer, A.K.A. Bobby's dead wife - to distract the older hunter, I jump on the opportunity.

"You don't _have_ to go," Gabriel points out as I pack my backpack with a few clothes, leaning against the doorway of my room.

"Bobby's my friend."

"You want me to-?"

"No, I do _not_." I point at him warningly. "And don't follow me, either. I don't need a chaperone."

He holds up his hands in surrender, raising an eyebrow. "Fine, whatever you say. What crawled up your ass, anyway?"

"You've been acting weird ever since we ran into Famine," I point out, "Excuse me for wanting a little space."

Gabriel blinks, clearly hurt. "I thought...but Famine said-"

"Screw what Famine said!" I sling the backpack over my shoulder. "I don't need your constant approval!"

"Ariel-"

"Just leave me _alone_!" I storm past him and downstairs. Cola barks from the couch and I stroke his ears in farewell before heading for the door. I tap the doorknob, thinking of Bobby's house, and open the door, slamming it shut behind me. Halfway across the salvage yard to the front door, I grimace, turning around again, but the door's gone.

Well, I've gotten this far. I cross the rest of the way to Bobby's door and knock on it. Dean's the one who gets the door, giving me a wan smile - he always looks tired these days - and ruffling my hair. It reminds me of Gabriel's constant hovering, and my mood immediately takes a nosedive.

"Hey, Air. Bobby's over in the study with Sam."

"Thanks." He shuts the door behind me and moves back to the kitchen, where a pot is simmering on the stove. Even as I watch, Castiel comes into view, peering into the pot curiously, and receives a quiet scolding from Dean when he attempts to reach into the pot to taste whatever's cooking. Chastised, the angel is shooed out of the kitchen, where he greets me with a small smile.

"Hello, Ariel."

"Hey, Cas. Still traumatized by ground beef?"

He wrinkles his nose. "I would rather not discuss it."

"Fair enough." I grin and make my way to the study, where Sam and Bobby are poring over ancient, dusty texts. "Is this the part where I attempt to be cute and cover your eyes?" I tease, wrapping my arms around Bobby's shoulders from behind.

"Get off, kid," he snaps, but I can hear the affection behind it as he turns slightly to smile wearily at me. "Good to see you, too." I can see the heavy grief in his expression, though, and give him an extra hug for it. "I thought I told you to get off."

"That's the thanks I get for coming all the way here to harass you?" I let go and steal his trucker's cap in the process, putting it on my own head as I drop into a chair. The cap's too big for me, though, and flops over my eyes. I can hear Sam chuckling as he snatches the cap off my head and returns it to a disgruntled Bobby.

"Is Gabriel not with you?" Castiel asks from the doorway of the study and wincing at the reminder of our argument, I shake my head.

"No, we're, uh...not really getting along at the moment."

"I see." Castiel frowns and then promptly disappears, probably to confront Gabriel.

"Never gonna get used to that," Bobby mutters as he returns to his book, "So what did you and Gabriel fight over? You two seemed just fine last time we saw you."

"He's gotten extra-clingy since Famine." I shrug. "I told him to lay off before coming here."

"You ever think it might be because the overgrown pigeon's worried about you?" It takes me a minute to realize that Bobby's referring to Gabriel.

"Overgrown pigeon?" I echo.

"Well, he _is_," Bobby defends himself. I can't help but laugh at the image of Gabriel running around the sidewalks of New York City, scaring tourists by flapping his arms.

"Anyway, he shouldn't be worried about me, I'm fine. Whatever Famine said was highly exaggerated, and Gabriel took it way too seriously, like _someone else I know_." I aim the last part at the kitchen.

"Piss off, Hobbit!" Dean calls back without missing a beat.

"Excuse you, I happen to be fun-sized!" Dean starts laughing hysterically at that, and even Sam and Bobby are biting the insides of their cheeks to keep from chuckling. "Ugh, you all suck." I slouch in my chair, sulking, even as Castiel pops back into the study, looking as if someone's delivered him grave news. "What is it, Cas?" I ask, sitting back up in my chair.

"Gabriel wishes for you to have your space," Castiel tells me quietly, "Just as you requested."

"Oh." Guilt slams into me like a speeding bus.

"Hey, we found a case not too far from here that looks like a salt-and-burn," Sam suggests, catching my mood, "You wanna tag along?"

"Yeah, okay," I agree before my brain catches up. It, unfortunately, decides to agree. Maybe with a little time, I can pull up the courage to talk to Gabriel later.

"Dean, Ariel's coming with us to Freeport!" Sam calls towards the kitchen.

"Yeah, fine, after lunch!" Dean snaps back irritably, swearing when whatever's on the stove ends up boiling over.

* * *

So that's how I find myself climbing into the Impala after a lunch of spaghetti (thankfully, Dean saved the pasta before it had overcooked) and after saying goodbye to Bobby. Castiel disappears again to search for God before we set off. Sioux Falls looks ransacked as we leave, the people of the town still cleaning up after the zombie attacks.

Dean, seeing me looking out the window, says quietly, "It was a mess trying to cover up what really happened."

"We had to get the sheriff on our side," Sam adds.

"Someone's going to end up noticing soon," I point out, "Probably other hunters." I still remember the hunters who had attacked me and Sam in that bar months ago. It seems like forever since that had happened. Judging by the withdrawn expression on Sam's face, he seems to be recalling the same incident.

"Probably," Dean agrees, "But we'll deal with that when we have to."

The rest of the trip to Freeport is quiet, and only punctuated by me lobbing little paper pieces of an old straw wrapper from the backseat at Sam's head. He's still brushing little white bits out of his hair when we climb out of the car at the motel parking lot while Dean goes to check us in, snickering all the way.

"You missed one," I say innocently, plucking a piece of paper off Sam's shoulder, and oddly enough, he smirks. I think I'd rather have a bitchface thrown at me.

"Yeah, well, I know how ticklish you are." My horror must show on my face, because Sam starts laughing and doesn't stop until Dean returns with the keys to the motel room.

We set down to researching that night - and by research, I mean Sam is mainly researching on the laptop while Dean drowns his sorrows in a bottle of Jack and I'm caught awkwardly hovering between helping Sam with research and bothering Dean into putting the alcohol away. The latter doesn't really work, so I settle for the former.

Between me and Sam, we discover the ghost's main targets: kids at the elementary school. Already, there have been three deaths in the school, and the school has been threatened with being shut down if the murders don't stop.

"Which death was the first one?" I ask.

"Well, that was two years ago." Sam pulls up the news article. "He was found dead in the playground of the school by the janitor in the morning. Must've been lying there all night."

"'Clarence Wilson?'" I read skeptically, "Was this kid bullied?"

"Yep."

"Not surprised, with a name like that," Dean points out as he drains his bottle.

"The other two kids were within the past week. They were Clarence's classmates," Sam explains.

"You think Clarence is the ghost and they're the ones who killed him, so he's back for revenge," I realize.

"Looks like it."

"So then who's he after next?" Dean drops the empty bottle into the trashcan and peers over Sam's shoulder.

"We'll have to talk to the victims' parents and find out who they were close to two years ago."

* * *

The next night, we drive to the cemetery and start digging away at Clarence Wilson's grave. There are two more children who had been friends with the victims two years ago, and we suspect they're the next targets.

"So that's two lives spared," Sam had said as he returned from questioning the victims' parents earlier that day.

Now, as we hit the coffin with our shovels, I ask, "There any chance of the ghost showing up here?"

"Definitely." Dean nudges me back so that he can pry open the coffin. I cover my nose as the stench of half-rotted corpse drifts up towards us. "That's why Sam's on the lookout."

"Unh!" Sam topples over and Dean rolls his eyes.

"Guess that means he's here." He looks up at Sam's form as the taller Winchester staggers to his feet. "What's the matter, Sammy, nine-year-old getting the better of you?"

"Oh, shut up," Sam grumbles even as he grabs an iron rod, swinging it at something out of my range of vision. When he's certain that the ghost is gone, he reaches down to help me out of the hole in the ground while Dean hoists himself up. The ghost materializes again just as Dean gets the kerosene and salt, and the little boy falters between going for Sam's throat or mine.

My breath catches because the boy is so tiny, barely coming up to my stomach, and his face, while pale and obviously ghostly, is smooth and young. Poor kid. Then his expression twists in rage as he rushes at me and I decide that pity or not, I'm not going to stand around and let him tear me to shreds, so I jump back and let Sam swing at him again with the iron rod.

"You done?" he yells over his shoulder at Dean.

"Almost!" This time, the ghost materializes near Dean and knocks him over, causing the lighter in his hand to go flying. I catch it and flick it open before tossing it down into the grave. The skeleton catches fire and Clarence Wilson's spirit goes up in flames with his bones. Grimacing, Dean sits up, rubbing his head where it had hit the ground, and Sam claps a hand on my shoulder in a silent congratulation.

* * *

The break between cases doesn't last long, but it's technically not a case that follows the salt-and-burn.

It's a rude wake-up call.

I'm sleeping on the couch while Sam and Dean take the beds, since I'm smaller and can fit on the badly-sized furniture, so I'm the first to jolt awake when the lock on the door clicks open. I look at the beds, where Sam is stirring at the noise and Dean is still soundly asleep, and realize that it's definitely not someone friendly coming in. As if to prove me right, two men in ski masks enter, both carrying shotguns. One aims directly at me, seeing that I'm awake, and I freeze. The other man aims at Sam, whose eyes are opening slowly.

"Scream and I shoot," the man aiming at me snarls quietly and I swallow, but nod.

"Ariel-!" Sam begins hoarsely, scrambling into a sitting position, but the other man pumps his shotgun.

"Stay down." Sam throws a helpless look at Dean, who's starting to shuffle around in his half-conscious state, and the man closer to Sam inches forward far enough to snatch the handgun out from under Dean's pillow. Dean's eyes open when his fingers don't find the gun and he sits up sleepily. "Looking for this?" The man holds up the handgun even as he pops the cartridge out of the gun and tosses it aside.

Dean blinks between him and his partner. "Mornin'," he deadpans.

"Shut up. Hands where I can see 'em."

Dean lifts his hands slightly even as he squints. "Wait a minute. Is that you, Roy?" He smiles, but there's no humor in it. "It is, isn't it? Which makes _you_ Walt." He looks over at the man pointing the shotgun at me. "Heya, Walt."

The two men look at each other before Walt strips off his ski mask. "Don't matter." I'm itching to bolt, my adrenaline pumping, but I know that before I get any distance between us, the hunter - is he a hunter? - will shoot. Roy yanks his mask off, too.

"Well, is it just me, or do you two seem a tad upset?" Dean asks innocently.

"You think you can flip the switch on the Apocalypse and just walk away, Sam?" Walt snarls, looking at Sam even though his gun remains trained on me.

"Who told you that?" Sam asks carefully, his eyes flickering between me and Walt worriedly.

"We ain't the only hunters after you." Walt pumps his shotgun and Sam flinches.

"Look, I can explain, just...just don't hurt Ariel. Let her go, she's got nothing to do with it."

Walt looks at me and then at Roy, waiting for his order. Roy glances over his shoulder at me briefly before shaking his head. "She'll squeal on us. Kill her first."

"NO-!" Dean shouts as he launches up and off the bed, but Walt pulls the trigger. The sound is muffled as fire blossoms in my chest. My head hits the arm of the couch, but that pain is dull compared to the searing agony in my chest.

Sam screams my name, but I can't bring my limbs to respond even as I hear another muffled gunshot. The pain dissolves into unnerving numbness, and I can't feel my face or my hands or my feet, aside from a bizarre icy feeling spreading through every pore of my body.

Then thankfully, blessedly, darkness takes over.

* * *

**I don't care how short this chapter is. I _had_ to end it there. -cackles evilly-**

**I know the case isn't that detailed, and honestly, I feel like this is more of a filler chapter until I get to the real meat of _Dark Side of the Moon_. So here it is, and hopefully, I'll have the next chapter up around Tuesday.**

**Leave reviews!**


	23. Chapter 23

**Chapter** **23**

* * *

_**Then:**_

_Walt looks at me and then at Roy, waiting for his order. Roy glances over his shoulder at me briefly before shaking his head. "She'll squeal on us. Kill her first."_

_"NO-!" Dean shouts as he launches up and off the bed, but Walt pulls the trigger. The sound is muffled as fire blossoms in my chest. My head hits the arm of the couch, but that pain is dull compared to the searing agony in my chest._

_Sam screams my name, but I can't bring my limbs to respond even as I hear another muffled gunshot. The pain dissolves into unnerving numbness, and I can't feel my face or my hands or my feet, aside from a bizarre icy feeling spreading through every pore of my body._

_Then thankfully, blessedly, darkness takes over._

**_Now:_**

The room I open my eyes to is white and sterile, reminding me of a hospital. A dark-skinned angel - well, what else can he be? - approaches me, bronze wings rustling behind him, and I'm frozen in fear. Wait, why can I see his wings?

"Well?" he asks, his voice rumbling quietly, "Are you coming or not, Ariel?" I nod dumbly and stumble after him as he leads me through the white room and past several empty beds. Something in the back of my mind whispers "_Raphael_" and my blood freezes in my veins.

"Raphael?" I ask tentatively, but the angel - no, _archangel_ - doesn't respond, walking over to the bed at the end of the room, where another angel lies. His golden wings are stretched awkwardly to either side of him, one wing crooked. He looks familiar and I don't need the voice in the back of my head to tell me who it is. "Gabriel!"

Gabriel looks up to acknowledge us. "Ariel!" He smiles widely and sits up, but winces as his crooked wing is jostled in the process.

"I told you not to move, brother," Raphael scolds mildly, "You should have known better than to taunt a Tyrannosaurus Rex."

"You did _what_?" I demand, my eyebrows shooting up as I completely forget about asking about what's going on.

"Uhh, oops?" Gabriel grins sheepishly. "Come on, Raph, it was just a little bit of fun."

"You _broke_ your _wing_," Raphael points out and Gabriel wrinkles his nose.

"Spoilsport."

"What's going on?" I ask plaintively, but neither archangel answers. "Gabriel, where are we?" He doesn't even look at me and my stomach twists slightly in apprehension. Why can they only hear me part of the time?

Something shiny brushes just past my range of vision and I whirl around in time to see a few gray feathers behind me.

"Oh, God." I grab for the feathers, yanking the feathers out in front of me and ignoring the pain that results from my rough handling. The wing is silver, flashing brightly in the dim light of the room with each movement and looking absolutely beautiful. The shimmering gray feathers feel like silk against my fingers. Another wing curves around the other side of my back.

My wings. These are my wings. But why are they here if I'm still human?

"Ariel." Raphael's deep voice snaps me out of my revelation and I drop the wing in my hand, startled. "What would you recommend as a healing balm?"

"A what?" I want to say, but instead, the voice in the back of my mind decides to take over, my mouth moving without my permission. "Arnica, comfrey, and turmeric."

"Wait a second, you're letting the _novice_ treat me?" Gabriel whines.

"It serves you right for getting into this mess in the first place," Raphael scolds even as he nods to me and moves around the room to collect the ingredients, "And besides, she'll never learn if she doesn't practice. Be patient with her."

"Yes, Gabriel, be _patient_ with me," the voice that isn't mine teases and Gabriel takes an absent swing at me with one arm.

"Brat," he says affectionately.

I think I'm starting to understand what's happening. "This is a memory," I say, but Gabriel and Raphael ignore me. "This is one of my old memories." So then why am I reliving it now?

Raphael brings over a bowl filled with the three herbs, crushed into a paste. "Hold out your wing." Gabriel holds it out, grimacing, and Raphael hands me the bowl. Getting the hint, I carefully take some of the paste and spread it over the broken joint of Gabriel's wing. He winces, but allows me to continue until the top of his wing is covered in a thin layer of green paste.

"It's feeling better," he notes when I pull my hand away, smiling gratefully at me. "Thanks."

"You see, sister?" I look up at Raphael, surprised. "You're a natural healer. Soon enough, you'll be better than me."

"I don't doubt it," a new voice says even as two strangers enter. I know the one with pure white wings - that's Michael. But the angel who had spoken, the one with dazzlingly bright diamond-like wings...

"Hey, Luce," Gabriel says cheerfully, "Come to admire our baby sister's handiwork?"

I can feel my face heating up. "It's just a couple of herbs," I mumble.

"Nonsense," Lucifer says, inspecting Gabriel's wing to make sure the break is healing. "I told you from the start you had talent, Ariel. All you had to do was practice a little."

"For a beginner, it's not a bad job," Michael agrees, hanging back a little from the crowd surrounding the bed, and Gabriel rolls his eyes.

"Get over here already, Michael, before you ruin the moment." With a tentative smile, Michael joins us, slinging an arm around my shoulders. I lean into the embrace, even though I can't take my eyes off the shimmering wings of the Morningstar. No wonder everyone had loved Lucifer in Heaven; he holds himself with such dignity and charisma, it's easy to forget that he's currently Satan.

I look around at the other archangels - Gabriel beaming widely, Raphael nodding proudly, and Michael smiling faintly - and realize I'm looking at my family for the first time that I can remember.

"What's the matter?" Gabriel raises an eyebrow at me and I swallow back the sudden lump in my throat.

"Nothing." Lucifer's watching me with concern, as are Michael and Raphael, and I manage a smile as I shake my head. "I'm just glad we're all here."

Everyone relaxes as Lucifer smiles warmly. "As are we, sister." He turns to Gabriel. "So go on, Gabriel. Tell us about this dinosaur that got the better of you." Gabriel laughs and launches into the story enthusiastically. Michael and Raphael crowd around the bed, both eager to hear the story, and I hang back, trying to sort out my thoughts.

"Having fun?" I whirl around to see an unpleasantly familiar bald man standing behind me, hands in his pockets.

"Zachariah." I scowl, crossing my arms.

"Glad to see you remember me." He glances over my shoulder. "I have to say, I don't think I've ever seen our elder brothers this happy before. No wonder this was your best memory."

"My best...?" Then I remember the gunshot. "Am I dead?"

"Yep." Zachariah pops the 'p,' and I can feel my stomach sinking in dread. "Oh, don't worry, everything will be taken care of. Paperwork and all that jazz. All you have to do is stay here."

"Stay here?" I echo.

"Absolutely. Just stay in your own personal Heaven like a good little girl and we'll do the rest."

I glance back at the archangels - my _brothers_ - before looking at Zachariah. "What's the catch?"

"No catch." He smiles. "Consider it compensation for all the trouble we've caused you."

"You must want _something_ from me, or you wouldn't have bothered making a Heaven for me," I point out.

"This _is_ what we want from you, Ariel. We want you to stay here."

"You want me to stay dead," I realize, but I can't do that. I still have to find the real Gabriel and apologize to him about our fight. Does he even know I'm dead? "Where are the Winchesters?" I demand.

"In their own Heavens, safe and sound." Zachariah falters, though, and I have my real answer.

"You're lying." I take a step back and my back hits the door even as Zachariah's expression darkens.

"Now you listen here, _child_. You may have once been a great archangel, but now you're powerless, you're _helpless_, and you are on our turf. So you do as I say, and no one gets hurt," he snarls.

"Yeah, fuck that." I fumble for the doorknob and the door clicks open. I race outside into the forest that lies beyond.

* * *

My wings are gone now, having vanished the instant I had left the infirmary and my memory behind, and I can't help but miss them already. Darting between trees and ducking under low-hanging branches, I admit that I could have thought my escape through a little better.

"You think you can run from us in our own backyard?" Zachariah calls after me mockingly, "Oh, little Ariel, you have so much to learn."

I stop to catch my breath near a small stream, but I can't stay long as I hear the crunch of leaves beneath suit shoes behind me. I hop over the stream before starting to run again - and promptly slamming into a thin man wearing a golden cape and a colorful mask that looks like a box of crayons threw up on it. I topple backwards onto the ground, as does the man.

"Oww," I groan.

"Oh, jeez, I'm so sorry," the man apologizes, scrambling to his feet and helping me up. "Are you Ariel?"

I squint at him. "Maybe...?"

"Relax, I'm a friend of Sam and Dean's. I can take you to 'em." The man tugs me along and I can't help but follow. "Name's Ash."

"Ash?" I remember him from the second season of _Supernatural_: a wiry computer genius with a mullet. "I've heard of you."

"Have you?" Ash looks over his shoulder at me with a grin. "Sweet." He pulls out a piece of chalk and scribbles some symbols onto a wooden door before throwing it open. "C'mon." He yanks me through and shuts it before clapping his hands once. The lights flicker on and before I can register where I am, I'm lifted off the ground and crushed to within an inch of my...well, afterlife.

"Ariel!"

"Ugh, again with the bear hugs," I groan, patting Sam's back affectionately. "Hey, BFG."

"Roald Dahl?" Sam draws back long enough to give me a disapproving glare. "_That's_ original."

"Oh, shut up and hug me again." He obeys and I squeeze his shoulders tightly. Now that the shock's worn off, I can see that we're in a bar of some sort.

"That's nice, ignore the handsome one for the giant," Dean teases and I roll my eyes as I look over Sam's shoulder to see him sitting at the bar with a pretty dark-haired woman with warm brown eyes.

"You mean the conceited one."

The woman snorts as Dean protests, "Hey!" Sam laughs as he sets me down, letting me hop up onto a bar stool on Dean's other side.

"Name's Pamela." The woman holds out her hand and I shake it.

"The psychic, right? I've heard of you." I remember her from Season Four.

"You hear of a lot of people?" Ash asks as he grabs a can of beer from the fridge, raising an eyebrow at me. His cape and mask have been discarded, so now I can see he's in a sleeveless black shirt and torn jeans. His mullet is intact, too.

"Some," I admit, embarrassed, before turning to Dean. "So where'd you and Sam end up?"

"In our own Heavens. We had to find each other before Zachariah showed up and-"

"He found you, too?" I interrupt, frowning.

"Yeah, that's how Ash got to us." Dean blinks. "Where'd he find you?"

"In my Heaven." I don't want to tell Dean and Sam about the memory. It seems personal and I doubt bringing up Lucifer would win me any points with the Winchesters. "He tried to get me to stay dead."

"Screw that. We're getting out of here as soon as we find a way to the Garden."

"The Garden?" I echo and Sam nods as he joins Ash at a table with a laptop.

"Yeah, Cas contacted us. He said we needed to find an angel named Joshua and ask him about God, and Joshua can be found in the Garden. Oh, and he also said to tell you that Gabriel's freaking out." I can't help but smile, even though that only strengthens my resolve to get back to Earth. "We're on the verge of finding a shortcut to the Garden," Sam adds.

"Forget 'on the verge,' we found it." Ash taps a few keys before turning the computer to face Sam. He gives Pamela a thumbs-up and she chuckles as she returns it. Ash gets up and pulls out his chalk again, drawing a few sigils on the door. "All access pass to the Magic Kingdom."

"Good." Dean gets up even as Ash gives him a look. "Not good?" Dean guesses.

"That Zachary fella's going to be watching every road to the Garden," Ash warns us. Sam hugs Pamela tightly in farewell.

"Watch your ass," she tells him fondly and looks at Dean, "And Dean." Dean moves to hug Pamela, too, but she has other plans. She yanks him down into a long kiss. Sam looks at me, wide-eyed, and we both choose to look away, coughing awkwardly. "Yep. Just how I imagined," Pamela says cheerfully when they finally break apart.

"Ah, gentlemen, little lady." Ash pretends to tip an imaginary hat. "I don't mean to be a downer or anything but…I'm sure I'll see you again soon."

Dean winks at Pamela, who grins, before looking back at Ash. "Well, keep a sixer on ice for us."

"Thanks for everything," I add as Sam opens the door to blinding white light. Bracing ourselves, we walk through the door.

* * *

When I look around, Sam and Dean aren't there, and I'm back in Heaven's infirmary, except that it's now dark and empty.

"You are tap-dancing on my last good nerve," Zachariah says coldly and I wheel around to face him, "We have offered you _everything_ Heaven has, and yet you still choose to get in our way. _Why_?"

I have a different question to ask. "Where's my Grace?"

Zachariah snorts. "Your Grace? Why, it's with our esteemed eldest brother, of course."

"I want to talk to him."

"Michael has better things to do than talk to you. Like, oh, I don't know..._prepare for the Apocalypse_!" I flinch at the sudden rise in volume even as Zachariah clears his throat and straightens the lapels of his jacket. "Now be a good little girl and stay put while I go make nice with your friends, the Winchesters."

"You stay away from them!" I step towards him, but he disappears. I try the door, but the handle rattles; it's locked. "Let me out!" I slam on the door. "Help! Someone help me!"

"It's no use shouting, no one's there." I spin around to see a dark-skinned man calmly surveying me. He doesn't look like Raphael or any other angel I know. "My name is Joshua. I believe you and your friends were looking for me?" I nod dumbly and Joshua holds out his hand. Hesitating for a moment, I reach out and take it.

In the next second, we're in a large green meadow, which echoes with the rustling of leaves in the wind. Trees dot the expanse of green, some covered in apples.

"Is this the Garden?" I ask, spinning around to take a look at my surroundings. There's a small pond at the edge of my feet.

"Yes. Many people see it differently. For you, I believe it is Eden, as it was when you were younger." I look up at Joshua, whose eyes crinkle in a kind smile. "I'm afraid I must leave you now to find your friends."

"That's okay, just...can I see what's happening on Earth? With Castiel and Gabriel?"

"Of course." Joshua kneels down and touches the pond's surface with one finger before disappearing. I watch as the water ripples before being replaced with an image of the motel room Sam, Dean, and I had been in.

Castiel paces the length of the room repeatedly, sending nervous glances at Sam and Dean's limp bodies on the bed while Gabriel sits on the floor, cradling my body in his arms and stroking my hair absently.

"It shouldn't take this long," he croaks hoarsely, looking up at Castiel.

"The Garden is difficult to reach, especially with all of Heaven searching for them," Castiel says quietly, looking out the window.

"And if they don't reach it at all?" Gabriel points out worriedly.

"They will." Castiel's expression softens as he looks down at my body. "She'll return to us, Gabriel."

"She'd better, the stupid kid," Gabriel mutters half-heartedly and leans down to kiss my forehead tenderly. I can feel tears stinging my eyes as the image dissipates, leaving only clear water, and wipe my face quickly as the rustle of wings signals Joshua's return.

"Hey, Air." Sam smiles tiredly at me and wraps an arm around my shoulders. He and Dean look like they've seen something awful, but I don't call them out on it as they look around. "This is Heaven's Garden?"

"It's...nice-ish, I guess," Dean says awkwardly.

"You see what you want to here. For some it's God's throne room. For others, like Ariel, it's Eden. You two, I believe it's the Cleveland Botanical Gardens. You came here on a field trip." I don't see any Botanical Gardens, but I guess Sam and Dean do, because recognition dawns on their faces.

"You're Joshua," Sam says, "So you talk to God?"

"Well, He talks to me mostly." Joshua shrugs.

"Well, we need to speak to Him. It's important. Where is He?" Dean demands.

"On Earth."

"Earth?" I echo, "You mean He's been down there all this time?" Joshua nods.

"Do you know where on Earth?" Sam prompts.

"No, sorry. We don't exactly speak face-to-face," Joshua admits.

"I don't get it," Dean says, "God's not talking to nobody, so-"

"-why's He talking to me?" Joshua finishes with a wry smile. "I sometimes think it's because I can sympathize - gardener to gardener - and, between us, I think He gets lonely."

"My heart's breakin' for Him," Dean deadpans.

"Can you at least get Him a message for us?" Sam cuts in.

"Actually, He has a message for you three: back off." The words freeze us all.

"What?" Dean asks blankly.

"He knows already. Everything you want to tell Him." Of course he does. "He knows what the angels are doing. He knows that the Apocalypse has begun. He just doesn't think it's His problem."

"Not His...? It's the Apocalypse!" I protest.

"The hell does He mean it's not His problem?" Dean adds angrily.

"God saved you already," Joshua says sternly, "He put you on that plane. He brought back Castiel. He contacted Gabriel and told him to bring Ariel home. He granted you salvation in Heaven, and after everything you've done, too. It's more than He's intervened in a long time. He's finished. Magic amulet or not, you won't be able to find Him."

The words are like a slap to the face. "But He can stop all of it," I say weakly. "Why won't He step in?"

"Why does He allow evil in the first place? You could drive yourself nuts asking questions like that." Joshua sighs. "I know how important this was to you all. I'm sorry."

"Forget it," Dean says quietly, his voice cracking, "Just another dead-beat dad with a bunch of excuses. I'm used to that. I'll muddle through."

"Except you don't know if you can this time. You can't kill the Devil, and you're losing faith in yourself, your brother, and now this?" I just wish Joshua would stop talking. "God was your last hope. I wish I could tell you something different."

"How do we know you're telling the truth?" Sam pipes up suddenly.

Joshua's eyes narrow. "You think that I would lie?"

"Well, you're not the first angel we've met," Sam points out.

"I'm rooting for you boys! I wish I could do more to help you, I _do_! But..." Joshua holds his hands up helplessly and drops them again. "I just trim the hedges." He stands straight again. "So now you go home again. I'm afraid this time won't be like the last. This time, God wants you to remember." He holds up his hand.

"Wait. I have a few more questions," I say before he can send us away again. Sam and Dean look at me. "It's okay, I'll see you guys soon," I tell them and Joshua waves his hand. They disappear.

"You want to know why God wanted you here," Joshua notes and I nod. "Isn't it obvious? He wanted His little girl to be reunited with her family."

"Some family," I mutter, kicking at the grass near my feet, "I mean, no offense, but most other families don't kill each other just because Daddy supposedly commands it."

"True. But that's our lot in life, I suppose." Joshua inclines his head. "And you wanted to ask about your Grace."

"Is there any way of getting it back?" I ask.

"Well, that'd be up to Michael. I doubt you'd be able to reason with him, though."

"Oh." I grimace. "Okay, that's all. Thanks for helping."

"I really am sorry, Ariel," Joshua says quietly, "I wish I could tell you otherwise, but-"

"No, just...just send me back." Joshua raises his hand, looking guilty, and waves it once more. White light blinds me and I shut my eyes against it.

* * *

Silence first greets me. Then comes a cacophony of noise, as if two voices are speaking on top of each other at the loudest volume possible.

I open my eyes warily and find myself in the middle of what seems like a shouting match. Gabriel's kneeling on the floor, cradling me in his arms, while Castiel stands against the window, his face drawn with worry. Sam and Dean are both standing beside him, wearing clean shirts. I can feel the wet stickiness of my blood against my chest, but only the echo of pain remains where blinding agony had been before.

"She was still talking to Joshua when we left!" Dean snaps.

"She should've woken up by now!" Gabriel yells back and I wince at the assault on my eardrums.

Sam notices I'm awake first and clears his throat. "Uh, Gabriel, calm down-"

"Don't you tell me to calm down, Winchester, Ariel's _dead_!" Gabriel glowers at him and I'm starting to see the archangel in him more clearly than ever. "And for all I know, she's being screwed over by Zachariah and-!"

"_Gabriel_!" Castiel says loudly.

"_What_?" Castiel points at me and Gabriel looks down. I blink back up at him, grinning. "Oh," he says dumbly, "You're not dead."

"Idiot," I laugh weakly, ignoring the dull ache in my chest as I lean up to wrap my arms around his neck. He clutches me back tightly, burying his face into my hair and hugging me so hard that I'm scared my bones will break. "I'm so sorry," I mumble against his shoulder.

"Shut up," he says quietly against the top of my head and squeezes me impossibly closer as his voice trembles. "Just _shut up_." All I can do is nod into his shoulder and he tightens his grip briefly before letting go at last, swiping his sleeve across his eyes before helping me to my feet. He keeps a hand on my shoulder even after I'm upright. The mess of blood on my clothes is gone, and I suspect he vanished it when I wasn't paying attention.

"So what did Joshua have to say?" Castiel asks at last, focusing on Dean and Sam, who look at each other reluctantly.

"God said to back off," I cut in, knowing neither of them want to say it. Castiel's eyes widen as he turns to me.

"W-What?"

"That's what Joshua told us."

Castiel leans heavily on the divider in the motel room. "Maybe...maybe Joshua was lying."

Sam shakes his head as he gets to his feet, picking up his duffel bag. It's packed already - we'd gotten ready to leave the previous night so that we could just get up and go in the morning. "I don't think he was, Cas. I'm sorry."

Gabriel sighs. "I told you from the start, kiddo, Dad didn't want to get involved in this mess."

Castiel doesn't seem to be listening as he moves away from the divider, towards the door, and pauses, his eyes on the ceiling. "You son of a bitch." His tone is low and desperate. "I believed in..." His voice cracks and he shuts his eyes before turning to Dean, pulling something out of his pocket. "I don't need this anymore. It's worthless." He tosses it at Dean, who catches it.

It's the God-seeking amulet, the one Sam had given to Dean years ago. The implication behind it - that Castiel had lost hope - is like a punch to the stomach, and I swallow back the lump in my throat.

Castiel turns away again even as I say, "Cas, wait-" He's gone in the next instant.

"Castiel!" Gabriel calls, but Castiel doesn't return.

"We'll find another way," Sam decides, but he sounds shaken. "We can still stop all this-"

"How?" Dean cuts across him, his voice hollow.

"I don't know, but we'll find it."

Dean doesn't look at him as he slings his duffel bag over his shoulder. He walks to the door and, waiting for Sam to see, drops the amulet into the trash can before leaving the motel room. I don't want to look at Sam's face, but I get a glimpse of it, anyway, as he follows Dean. He looks wounded, as if he's been stabbed in the back, and the lump in my throat grows more painful.

I wait for Sam to leave the motel room before going to the trash can and pulling out the amulet, tucking it into my pocket. I'll return it to them eventually.

"Home?" Gabriel suggests quietly and I nod.

"Home." I should be relieved when we land in the living room of Gabriel's house, Cola barking happily and jumping up to greet me, but there's a hollow emptiness in my chest that just won't go away.

Not to mention I have a few questions for Gabriel, now that I've seen Heaven for the first time.

* * *

**So I lied, I finished this chapter early because _this episode_, guys. So many feels. I assume you guys have questions that'll probably be answered in the next chapter. We'll have to see.**

**Leave reviews!**


	24. Chapter 24

**Chapter 24**

* * *

_**Then:**_

_Dean doesn't look at him as he slings his duffel bag over his shoulder. He walks to the door and, waiting for Sam to see, drops the amulet into the trash can before leaving the motel room. I don't want to look at Sam's face, but I get a glimpse of it, anyway, as he follows Dean. He looks wounded, as if he's been stabbed in the back, and the lump in my throat grows more painful._

_I wait for Sam to leave the motel room before going to the trash can and pulling out the amulet, tucking it into my pocket. I'll return it to them eventually._

_"Home?" Gabriel suggests quietly and I nod._

_"Home." I should be relieved when we land in the living room of Gabriel's house, Cola barking happily and jumping up to greet me, but there's a hollow emptiness in my chest that just won't go away._

_Not to mention I have a few questions for Gabriel, now that I've seen Heaven for the first time._

**_Now:_**

It's not until the next day that I get my opportunity to ask questions. Gabriel leaves me to my own devices all of the previous night, but the next afternoon, he corners me in the kitchen.

"Hey, you wanna go for a walk?" he asks brightly. I raise an eyebrow at him. "We'll take Cola, too." With a shrug, I get up and follow him through the living room. "C'mon, mutt!" Cola barks and leaps off the couch, allowing Gabriel to clip a leash onto him before we go outside.

We're in a large park covered in a few inches of snow - after all, it's still halfway through February - and fat lazy snowflakes drift down slowly from the gray sky. Cola jumps up, attempting to catch the snowflakes in his mouth excitedly, and Gabriel rolls his eyes as he unclips the leash again.

"Okay, fine, go nuts." Cola barks and races off to roll around and play in the snow.

"Don't you ever worry that he'll run away?" I point out as I pull on the gloves in my pockets before my fingers freeze.

"Nah, Cola always comes back. He's a smart dog." Gabriel watches the tiny Jack Russell terrier roll in the snow for a few moments before saying quietly, not looking at me, "You scare the hell out of me sometimes."

"Sorry," I say on reflex.

He smiles wryly. "Most people would ask why."

"Oh." I flush. "Well, why?"

"I guess it's 'cause you remind me of how things used to be back home." He still doesn't look at me. "I've had a long time to hide my wings, and now you've pulled them out again. And with what Famine said...I might've gone too far trying to prove that I do care about you."

"Sorry," I apologize again, this time understanding what he means and feeling guilty for causing that fight.

"Nah, don't be. I went overboard and I know it." He wraps an arm around my shoulders, smiling down at me at last. "Now I've gotta ask. What was your Heaven like?"

I can't help but grin. "Well, you held out on asking longer than I thought you would, well done." He grins back at me. "I think it was a memory from before."

"Yeah?" He raises an eyebrow.

"We were in the infirmary. All of us. Your wing was broken."

He grimaces. "T-Rex?"

"Yeah. Speaking of which, what the hell were you thinking?" I demand.

"It was funny at the time," he admits with a sheepish grin before adding, "That was your first day working with Raphael. We were all so proud of you that day."

I can't help the rush of heat to my cheeks as I ask, "But if I don't remember it, then why was it my best memory?"

"Well, that's partially my fault. You can't just wipe someone's slate clean, that would take all kinds of delicate work and risk of brain damage. Your memories are just sort of locked up in the back of your mind where you can't reach, but they're still there."

"So that's why I chose that one over, say, my high school graduation," I point out.

"Something like that," Gabriel agrees wryly, "Although I'm flattered that my broken wing is happier for you than graduating high school."

"Oh, shut up, it's not like that." I punch his shoulder lightly, even though it feels like I'm hitting a brick wall. "I think it was because we were all together."

"Mm." Gabriel avoids looking at me now, focusing on scuffing the snow with the toe of his shoe. "Lucifer and Michael were really tearing at each other's throats at the time. The day you found your healing talent was the first time in a long while they didn't have a go at each other."

"You think that's why I chose that memory?" That's kind of sad, now that I know the real reason my subconscious had made that my best memory.

"Probably. Y'know, I would've thought you'd have chosen something from your human life." He grins at me, though I can see the apprehension there.

I shake my head, looping my arm through his. "If I picked that memory, it's 'cause no human memory of mine could compare." That earns a more genuine smile from him. "After the infirmary, I went through a forest. But isn't it supposed to be, like, some kind of tunnel or road?"

"The Axis Mundi," Gabriel confirms, "And it differs, depending on the person. I guess to Sam and Dean, it showed as a road, because that's where they spent their lives. The forest, on the other hand..." He frowns thoughtfully before it seems to click. "I remember. You used to take Castiel down those trails all the time when he was a fledgling. He liked playing by a little stream in the woods."

"I jumped over it when I was running from Zachariah," I recall, and the idea of me raising Castiel is enough to put a smile on my face. It disappears just as quickly. "Where did Cas go?"

"Who knows?" Gabriel grimaces. "I can't find him now, I warded him with enough sigils that no one can sense him."

"He really believed in God," I say quietly, nudging a pile of snow with my foot.

"Yeah, I know. He must be heartbroken." Cola returns to us, shaking snow from his fur, and I pick up the little dog. He nuzzles my neck with his cold nose, curling up against my chest to soak up my body heat.

"We should look for him," I point out as I rub Cola's ears gently, "What if he gets hurt when his Grace is this weak?"

Gabriel stares at me for a moment before chuckling. "Now you're starting to sound like your old self again." He nods. "Okay. We'll try tracking Castiel down."

"Thanks." I smile and Cola takes the opportunity to lick my nose. I make a face at the dog. "Ugh, Cola, that's gross." Gabriel laughs as he leads us home again.

* * *

We try every tracking spell Gabriel knows, but the sigils he had imprinted into Castiel are strong, not to mention whatever wards Castiel himself had implanted are still holding steady.

Luckily, by the third day of trying, Sam calls and eases my worry.

"_Cas is here_."

"What? Where?" I demand.

"_Blue Earth, Minnesota. It's a mess over here,_" he admits, "_There's this false prophet and the whole town's gone nuts and_-"

"Whoa, whoa, slow down," I say hurriedly, putting the phone on speaker and placing it on the table. "Okay, repeat that?"

"_This girl, Leah Gideon, claims to be some kind of prophet of the Lord_."

"No way," Gabriel says, "Leah Gideon isn't a prophet name."

"_Yeah, that's what Cas said. Apparently, she's the Whore of Babylon, from Revelation._"

"Well, if she's bearing false prophecy, her goal's to send as many innocent little humans to hell as possible, which also means she has to be stopped." I'm totally lost, but Gabriel grasps my shoulder and tells the phone, "We're on our way." I barely have time to grab my phone before we're suddenly in a dark motel room. Dean is leaning against the kitchenette counter while Sam sits on the couch with Castiel.

"Cas!" I shove my phone into my pocket and hug the angel tightly. He smells like cheap beer and I wrinkle my nose. "Are you drunk?"

"...maybe." He sounds sullen, his words still slurring slightly. "I drank a liquor store."

"Just one?" Gabriel snorts. "Lightweight."

I smack Castiel upside the head, noting that it doesn't hurt my hand, but he winces. He really _is_ turning human. "You had me worried sick, you jerk. We've been searching for you for days." I hug him again and this time, he returns the embrace awkwardly.

"I apologize," he murmurs, "I didn't mean to concern you."

"Idiot." I press a kiss to the side of his head.

"All right, so now that the teary reunion's out of the way, how do we go Pimp of Babylon all over this bitch?" Dean asks and I don't let go of Castiel as I settle on the couch between him and Sam.

"Stake from a cypress tree in Babylon," Gabriel answers easily.

"Yeah, because we totally have one of _those_ lying around," Sam deadpans.

"Right." Gabriel snaps his fingers and a twisted wooden stake clatters onto the coffee table in front of us.

"Great. Let's ventilate her," Dean says, reaching for the stake.

"It's not that easy," Castiel interrupts.

"Of course not, when is it ever?" I mutter.

"The Whore can only be killed by a true servant of Heaven. Not you, Dean, and certainly none of us." Castiel gestures vaguely at himself, me, and Gabriel. "Sam, of course, is an abomination." Sam looks briefly hurt.

"I don't think you were mean enough, Cas," I say sarcastically as I pat Sam's shoulder comfortingly.

"What about a pastor?" Sam suggests, "Leah Gideon's father would work."

"He'd count," Gabriel agrees thoughtfully, "So long as he didn't turn against Heaven at any point during his life."

"Yeah, I doubt that, the guy's a stickler for whatever his fake daughter's preaching," Dean says, shaking his head, "So what, we nab him, give him the stake, and tell him to go nuts?"

"I'll be in touch." Castiel stands from his seat and is gone in the next second. Gabriel huffs and disappears after him.

"Thanks for leaving me behind, guys," I tell the ceiling dully.

"Join the club," Sam says wryly, wrapping an arm around my shoulders.

"At least you're less dickish than your brothers are," Dean adds and it's then that I notice just how worn out he looks, as if the weight of the world is finally pressing in on him.

"Much appreciated," I tell him wryly. I'd have to talk to him later. Just then, a gray-haired man is shoved into the room from out of thin air and stumbles.

"What the hell was that?" he demands.

"Yeah, they weren't lying about the angel thing," Dean says, pushing himself up off the counter and approaching the man. "Have a seat, Padre, we're gonna have a little chat."

Gabriel and Castiel return to the room, the archangel flopping down on the couch beside me and tossing an arm around my shoulders lazily, knocking Sam's arm off me in the process. Sam glowers mildly over my head, but surrenders me to my brother's grip. Castiel leans on the divider in the motel room, looking drained. The transportation must have taken a lot out of him.

"I knew Leah's been unlike herself for a while, but-" Pastor Gideon is saying when I return my attention to the conversation.

"That girl is not who you think she is. She is the Whore of Babylon, and only a true servant of Heaven can kill her," Castiel says quietly, nodding to the twisted stake on the table.

"No. She's my daughter," Pastor Gideon protests weakly.

"I'm sorry, but she's not. She's the thing that killed your daughter," Dean says grimly.

"That's impossible."

"You've been claiming to hear messages from angels and fighting the Apocalypse, not to mention all the demon attacks on your town, and you think _this_ is impossible?" I deadpan.

"Who're you supposed to be, anyway?" Pastor Gideon snaps at me.

"Oh, I'm an amnesiac fallen archangel named Ariel. Nice to meet you." The pastor looks scandalized. Gabriel snorts with amusement.

"Look, we get that this is tough," Sam cuts in gently, "But if you don't do this, she's going to kill a lot of people. And damn the rest to hell."

"Why does it have to be me?" Pastor Gideon says weakly.

"You're a servant of Heaven," Gabriel points out.

"You two are angels!"

"Poor example of one," Castiel intones and Gabriel shrugs.

"I'm kinda in between at the moment." I elbow him, ignoring that it feels like I'm hitting a cement block. Reluctantly, Pastor Gideon sighs and picks up the cypress stake.

* * *

"Heads up." Dean tosses an aspirin bottle to Castiel as the angel sits on the sidewalk in front of the motel room. The hangover's begun to set in and Gabriel, much to Castiel's irritation, refuses to heal him for a while. He and Sam are inside the room with Pastor Gideon, informing him on what exactly to do. I sit next to Castiel while Dean packs the trunk of the Impala, offering as much comfort as I can to him.

"How many should I take?" Castiel studies the bottle.

"You?" Dean squints at Castiel before shrugging. "You should probably down the entire bottle."

"Thanks," Castiel says quietly.

"Yeah, don't mention it." Dean shoves his hands into his pockets. "I've been there, man. I'm a big expert on deadbeat dads. So…yeah, I get it. I know how you feel." I get the feeling I shouldn't be here for this conversation, but Castiel's arm is looped around mine, keeping me from moving. I press my shoulder against his instead.

"How do you manage it?" he asks as he looks up at Dean.

The older Winchester smiles tiredly. "On a good day, you get to kill a Whore."

"Are you okay?" I blurt out as Dean turns away and he looks back at me, frowning.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine." He smiles again, but it doesn't reach his eyes. I unwind my arm from Castiel's and get up.

"I mean, you've been like this since we got back from Heaven. I'm worried."

"Well, don't be." He chucks my chin lightly. "I'm okay, Air." I hesitate, but before I can press the issue, the motel room door opens and Sam, Gabriel, and the pastor come out. Castiel gives Gabriel a mild glare and Gabriel rolls his eyes, snapping his fingers.

"You're fine, you drama queen." Castiel rubs his forehead as the headache clears. "Honestly, I'm surprised the place isn't warded in Enochian, we could fly ourselves right in," Gabriel adds.

"Because she doesn't expect us to interfere," Castiel points out.

"Well, that's just points to us, isn't it?" Dean says, raising an eyebrow. "Beam us up, Scotty." Gabriel reaches out to grasp my hand and Pastor Gideon's while Castiel holds Dean and Sam's shoulders. Within the blink of an eye - I'm really getting used to this angel travel - we land in a church office, where a pretty young girl is looking into the mirror. Her reflection, however, is that of a monster, and that's what gets me stumbling back in shock.

Castiel grabs the girl and spins her around.

"Now, Gideon!" Sam yells, but the pastor is frozen now, faced with his daughter.

"Daddy, don't hurt me!" the Whore cries and Pastor Gideon hesitates. The Whore then murmurs something in Enochian and the incantation sends both Castiel and Gabriel to their knees with identical groans of pain.

The Whore shoves her hands out, sending an invisible force out to push me, Pastor Gideon, Sam, and Dean into the wall. The stake clatters to the floor and as we climb to our feet, she makes her escape. Pastor Gideon runs after her.

"Wait, no!" Sam and Dean race out of the room after the two, and I scramble over to Castiel and Gabriel, who are both on their backs.

"Ow, that bitch," the archangel mutters, grimacing as I help him sit up. His voice is strangled, his fists clenched.

"What happened?"

"Enochian torture spell," Castiel rasps, screwing his eyes shut against the pain. Gabriel leans heavily against the wall as I help Castiel sit up, too.

"Well, what do I do?" I demand helplessly. I don't want them to suffer, but I don't know enough Enochian to stop the spell.

"Just give me a sec." Gabriel winces as he struggles to his feet and promptly collapses again. I catch him before he hits his head. "Or an hour. I'm good with an hour."

"Is there some kind of counter-spell or-?"

"Hang on." With effort, Gabriel snaps his fingers and the heavy book I'd once attempted to learn Enochian from drops into my lap. I flip through the pages frantically, searching for the incantation the Whore had used.

There's an Enochian alphabet at the front of the book. I find each word of the incantation, putting them together to form "_pizin noco iad_," which translates loosely to "a torment upon the servant of God." I piece together a counter-phrase, "_Iehvsoz idlvgam __noco iad_," the translation of which I assume to be "His mercy is given to the servant of God." I guess that lifts the spell, because Gabriel and Castiel are no longer writhing in pain. Instead, they just look exhausted, as if they've both run a ten-mile marathon.

"Did it work?" I ask tentatively.

"Yeah." Gabriel grasps my knee, the closest part of me he can reach, and gives me a tired smile. "You did good, kiddo." He pats my knee before leaning against the wall again, closing his eyes and catching his breath. Castiel simply nods in agreement and then stiffens, tilting his head.

"The Whore is dead."

"Well, what do you know? Pastor managed to man up after all," Gabriel deadpans and Castiel shakes his head.

"It...wasn't the pastor. It was Dean."

"Dean?" I look up from the book, startled. "But he's not a true servant of Heaven, you said so yourself." Castiel shrugs, clearly too weak to contemplate it further, and closes his eyes, leaning against the same wall Gabriel is using.

Just then, Sam and Dean enter the room again, Dean's expression carefully blank. Castiel fixes him with a scrutinizing glare, but is too tired to keep it up and lets Dean help him to his feet, leaning heavily on the hunter.

"Ugh, you're heavy," Sam mutters teasingly as he picks Gabriel up with ease and sets the archangel on his feet, "Must be from all that junk food you eat."

"And here I thought you thought I was pretty," Gabriel retorts as he lists to the side. I catch his arm, steadying him and letting him lean on me as we leave the church office.

Getting the angels down the stairs is surprisingly easy, given how cooperative they are, but it's getting them in the car that's tough. Pastor Gideon had apparently hit his head, so Sam helps him into the front seat while Dean ushers a half-conscious Castiel into the back. Gabriel ducks his head as I push him none-too-gently into the car, grimacing at me.

"Be gentle, woman." I smack his shoulder to prove my point as I climb into the car beside him while listening to Dean and Sam's conversation.

"What can I say, Sam? I saw an opening and I took it."

"You're not gonna do anything stupid, are you?"

"Like what?"

"Like Michael stupid." The thought hadn't occurred to me, but now that it had, I can feel cold fear settling in my chest. What if Dean _does_ say yes?

"Come on, Sam. Give me a break." The weariness in Dean's tone doesn't reassure me, though.

* * *

Once we've got Castiel, Gabriel, and Pastor Gideon situated in the motel room with appropriate pain medication - Gabriel refuses to accept the pills at first and it's only when I threaten to cram them down his throat that he swallows them sulkily - I finally allow myself to relax, leaning against the headboard of Gabriel's bed.

He nudges my leg lightly. "Hey. You were pretty good with that Enochian."

"I was just lucky there was a phonetic spelling next to each word," I point out wryly, "You ought to teach me how to speak Enochian properly sometime."

"Yeah?" His eyes are closed, but he smiles slightly. "Maybe I will."

"Good." I let my fingers intertwine with his.

"Good," he repeats quietly, leaning his head against my shoulder. Within seconds, he's asleep, and I find myself tightening my grip on his hand as I watch Sam finish bandaging up Pastor Gideon's bleeding head.

"How's the head?" Dean asks, keeping his voice down for the unconscious angels' sakes.

"I'm seeing double. But that may be the painkillers," the pastor says wryly.

"You'll be okay," Sam reassures him.

"No." Of course he wouldn't be. The man had to watch what he'd believed to be his daughter for months die, knowing that his real daughter had been killed long ago.

Dean heads for the door and Sam looks up. "Where are you going?"

"I'm just gonna grab some clean bandages out of the trunk. Relax." Dean shuts the door behind him and I hesitate before untangling myself from Gabriel and getting up to follow Dean.

It hasn't escaped me that I've reached out to everyone except Dean. I don't know why that is, but I intend to correct it as soon as possible. I find Dean leaning against the hood of the Impala, his expression drawn and pensive.

"Hey." He looks up at me, startled.

"Air." He straightens, crossing his arms defensively. "What're you doing out here?"

"It's just weird. That you managed to kill the Whore, I mean." I cross my own arms, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, I guess I got lucky." He shrugs uncomfortably.

"You're never lucky," I point out.

"Ariel, just drop it."

"You're going to say 'yes,' aren't you?" I press and his eyes dart to the side before he shakes his head. "You are," I realize, "Dean-"

"Please just go back to the room, Ariel," he says quietly, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Is this because of what Joshua said?" I ask and his silence proves me right. "Screw what God wants. We've done this well without His help."

"You call this 'well?'" Dean snorts humorlessly. "Look around, Ariel. The world's in the toilet, and we're at the end of our rope. I hate to break it to you, sweetheart, but we're boned."

"I have faith," I insist.

"In what? In us?" Dean shakes his head. "I don't get why."

"What else would I have otherwise?" I remind him, "You, Sam, Bobby, Cas, and Gabriel are all I've got. If I don't have faith in you, I've got nothing."

"Well, then, you're screwed, kid. I'm sorry." He looks back up at me and I can see tears shining there. "I'm done."

"Please don't run off on us, not now," I say weakly, "We need you."

"I can't-" Dean breaks off and coming to a decision, heads for the car door. He slides into the Impala and revs the engine. Impulsively, I run in front of the car and cross my arms. If he's going to leave, he'll have to run me over. Thinking quickly, he spins the wheel to angle the car away from me and slams on the gas pedal, pealing away.

"DEAN!" I scream after him, but he's already out of the parking lot. Sam bursts out of the motel room and his face crumples with disappointment when he sees that the Impala's gone. "I tried to stop him," I tell him weakly as he approaches me slowly.

"I know." His voice is hollow.

"Sam, he's going to say 'yes,' we have to stop him."

He nods, looking over my head in the direction the Impala had gone. "As soon as Cas and Gabriel get better." I don't say what we're both thinking: that by that time, it might be too late.

* * *

**Damn it, Dean. Why must you give us feels? Oh, well, at least Ariel tried to stop him.**

**I was actually quite proud of myself for finding an Enochian dictionary to help me find out what the spell was (and to help me make up a counter-curse). Enochian is actually very interesting in its pronunciation and things, look it up if you want to feel just a little more angelic XD.**

**Leave reviews!**


	25. Chapter 25

**Chapter** **25**

* * *

_**Then:**_

_"I can't-" Dean breaks off and coming to a decision, heads for the car door. He slides into the Impala and revs the engine. Impulsively, I run in front of the car and cross my arms. If he's going to leave, he'll have to run me over. Thinking quickly, he spins the wheel to angle the car away from me and slams on the gas pedal, pealing away._

_"DEAN!" I scream after him, but he's already out of the parking lot. Sam bursts out of the motel room and his face crumples with disappointment when he sees that the Impala's gone. "I tried to stop him," I tell him weakly as he approaches me slowly._

_"I know." His voice is hollow._

_"Sam, he's going to say 'yes,' we have to stop him."_

_He nods, looking over my head in the direction the Impala had gone. "As soon as Cas and Gabriel get better." I don't say what what we're both thinking: that by that time, it might be too late._

**_Now:_**

"So when we find him, do I get to punch him or-?"

"Ariel, we're trying to _help_ Dean, not upset him even more."_  
_

"I'm just saying, hitting him might be therapeutic for all of us." I shrug.

"You've been hanging around Gabriel too much," Sam deadpans.

Looking up and grinning, Gabriel quietly sings, "_Heeeat of the moment~_!" Sam throws a book at Gabriel, which bounces off the archangel's head and lands on the floor. "Oww," Gabriel grumbles, rubbing his head, "Killjoy."

"Can we focus before Dean decides to jumpstart the Apocalypse for real?" Sam snaps.

"Why hasn't he already?" I ask.

"Because he'd have certain things he'd want to do before that, people he wants to see and-" Sam breaks off. "Of course. He went to Lisa."

"Lisa?" Gabriel echoes, raising his eyebrows. "Who the hell is Lisa?"

"Lisa Braeden," Sam explains as he grabs the book off the floor and shoves it back onto the shelf. "Ex of his, he probably went to say goodbye."

"Where does she live?" Castiel asks, getting up from his seat on Bobby's couch.

"Indiana, uhh...Cicero, I think."

"Let's go." Castiel reaches for Sam and they're gone in the next instant.

"Thanks for bringing us along," Gabriel calls after them sarcastically.

"Now you know how I feel when you and Cas zap off somewhere," I point out wryly, "Besides, your powers have been wonky ever since that Enochian spell, so you'd have probably landed us in Kentucky or something." It had been all Gabriel and Castiel could do to simply get me and Sam back to Bobby's this morning.

"Yeah, she might've added an extra word we missed," Gabriel agrees, flipping through the book of Enochian, "Maybe a power suppressor or something. Cas has been off since yesterday, too, not that he's noticed." I can't help but feel guilty; if I had caught that word, they would be back to normal by now. Looking up, Gabriel points at me warningly. "Stop that."

"What?" I blink, startled.

"You're blaming yourself for missing it, and I'm telling you to knock it off, it wasn't your fault."

I shrug and hold my hands up in surrender. "Whatever you say."

He frowns, but lets it go as he turns the book my way and points at a word. "Here, try saying that." I guess since we're waiting for Sam and Castiel to get back, he's decided to start teaching me Enochian.

"Um. Aderpan?" I look up at him, wrinkling my nose. "Sounds like a weird version of marzipan."

"No, each letter gets its own syllable. Like ah-deh-rah-pah-nah."

"Ah-deh-rah-pah-nah," I repeat, "What's that mean?"

"'Cast down.'" I give Gabriel a horrified look and he laughs. "Oh, don't worry, you didn't accidentally just cast me down. You need a full order to make it count, and besides, only Dad or another archangel can pull that spell off."

I relax, relieved, and that's when we hear Castiel returning.

"Let's go get your punch in." Gabriel closes the book and gets up. I follow him into the study, where Castiel is lowering an unconscious Dean onto Bobby's makeshift bed. Damn it, now I can't hit him until he wakes up. Castiel looks exhausted as he sinks into a chair near Bobby's desk while Sam merely looks drawn and upset.

"You were right," he tells me, "He was going to say 'yes.'"

"Awesome, so now he'll be more inclined than ever now that you've knocked him out and kidnapped him," Gabriel deadpans.

"It was either this or let him start Judgment Day, and I wasn't about to let that happen," Sam snaps back.

"You know, if you had listened to me back at the Mystery Spot-"

"Oh, don't start that again!" Had they been arguing about that when I hadn't been paying attention? "I wasn't just going to let him die!"

"Yeah, and look what happened!" Gabriel retorts, "The world's nearly about to break down and you're too busy playing babysitter to someone who's given up!"

Sam looks furious and I take that as my cue to step in. "Stop it, both of you!" I step between them. "Look, we're in this situation, whether we like it or not. So all we can do is move on from here and make sure the idiot doesn't call Michael down here. Okay?" I glance between Sam and Gabriel, earning mutual huffs of irritation and reluctant nods. That's the best I can get, so I settle for sitting on the arm of Castiel's chair as Sam goes to call Bobby from where the older hunter is arranging his books in the other room.

* * *

As predicted, Dean wakes up pissed soon after Bobby joins us.

"The hell is your problem?!" he snaps at us and I take the opportunity to slap him. He winces, grabbing his face. "Woman!"

"Hey, I've been preparing that hit for a while," I say, rather proud of how red his cheek is turning from the force of my slap. "Serves you right for nearly running me over."

"He did _what_?" I'd conveniently neglected that detail in my recap to Gabriel earlier.

"You ran in front of the car!" Dean protests.

"Yeah, and the logical response would be to stop and get _out _of the car!" I argue.

"Because I'm the poster-boy for logical decisions," Dean snorts as he leans his head back against the couch, "So what's this miracle cure Sam was waxing on about?"

"Uhh, about that..." Sam clears his throat awkwardly.

Dean smirks humorlessly. "Yeah, no, this is good. Really. You know, seven months of turned pages and screwed pooches, but tonight's when the magic happens."

"You ain't helpin'," Bobby grumbles.

"Yeah, well, why don't you let me get out of your hair, then?" Dean gets up off the couch and I knock him back down, glad that he's still a little wobbly so I can pull it off. He scowls at me.

"What the hell happened to you?" Bobby demands.

"Reality happened. Nuclear's the only option we have left. Michael can ice the Devil, save a boatload of people."

"Not all of 'em." Gabriel raises an eyebrow. "I told you back in the warehouse, Dean, this ends bloody no matter what we choose. If we've got a chance to get more than just a boatload out in one piece, more power to us. Michael's not the answer."

"Yeah, well, that's easy for you to say. But if Lucifer burns this mother down, and I could've done something about it, guess what? That's on me."

"No, that's on _us_," I correct, "We're supposed to be a team here."

"Team Free Will?" Dean says wryly, "I was _kidding_ about that, Air."

"Well, I believed in it." I shove my hands into my pockets, ignoring the brief hurt that flashes across his face.

"You can't give up, son," Bobby says gently, trying to break the tension between us.

"You're not my father. And you ain't in my shoes," Dean retorts harshly. Bobby's jaw clenches and he wordlessly pulls out a gun from a desk drawer and slams it down on the table. He takes a bullet out of his pocket and places it next to the gun. "What's that?"

"That's the round that I mean to put through my skull. Every morning, I look at it. I think, 'Maybe today's the day I flip the lights out.' But I don't do it. I _never_ do it. You know why? Because I promised _you_ I wouldn't give up!"

For fuck's sake, is _everyone_ losing hope?

Suddenly, Castiel doubles over, clutching his head with a groan of pain.

"Cas?!" I'm the first at his side, followed quickly by Gabriel.

"Something's happening," Castiel says vaguely and looks up at Gabriel. The archangel's expression is pinched as he nods. Within a second, they're both gone, and papers flutter around the room in their wake.

I take the opportunity to snatch up the gun and bullet, despite Bobby's protests, and toss the bullet into the nearest trash can. The gun is easy enough to dismantle and I deposit the pieces back onto Bobby's desk, crossing my arms stubbornly.

"Have I made my point clear yet?" I demand and Bobby looks up at me before nodding grudgingly.

"Yeah, I get it." He pats my arm as he wheels out of the study. I whack Dean upside the head once more - "Ow!" - before leaving the study, too.

* * *

Sam joins me out on the porch after about ten minutes.

"All this just because God doesn't want to interfere," I say quietly, leaning forward on my elbows.

"Mm." Sam leans against the banister of the steps, looking exhausted.

"We've done this well so far," I point out, "I don't see why God not jumping in would make a difference now."

"I think, if all else failed, Dean still had that hope to cling to. Guess he doesn't see a way out now." Sam closes his eyes, leaning back against the wooden railing.

"And what about you?" I shuffle closer, nudging his shoulder with mine.

He opens one eye to crack a tired smile. "I think it's dangerous to let me have hope at this point, but it's all I've got left."

I know the feeling. "Yeah, me, too." Sam wraps an arm around my shoulders and we sit comfortably in silence for a few more minutes. Suddenly, there's a crash from inside.

"Sam!" Dean yells, "Ariel!" We're both on our feet immediately, running into the house. Castiel and Gabriel are back, lowering an unconscious young man onto the makeshift bed in the study.

He's kind of cute, I have to admit, and vaguely familiar. He's got short blonde hair and I have a feeling his eyes are blue.

"Who is that?" Bobby asks.

"That's our brother," Sam says, stunned.

"You mean Adam?" Bobby adds and then it clicks. I remember Adam from the end of Season Four of _Supernatural_. He had been killed by ghouls along with his mother and the ghoul had taken his form to trick Sam and Dean into being eaten, too.

"What happened?" I demand, turning to Castiel and Gabriel.

"Angels," Castiel answers gruffly.

"Why?" Sam presses.

"Does it matter right now?" Gabriel retorts, "Either way, we need to hide him." He presses a hand to Adam's chest and Adam starts awake when he feels the Enochian sigils being branded into his ribs. I was right; his eyes _are_ blue.

"Where am I?" His voice is deeper than I'd expected, but he looks angry and scared at the same time, his eyes darting between all of us.

"Just relax, you're safe," Sam tries to pacify him.

"Who the hell are you?" So much for that.

"You're going to find this a little...a lot crazy, but we're actually your brothers," Dean says from the doorway. As if that's going to calm Adam down.

"It's the truth. John Winchester was our father, too. See, I'm Sam-" Sam begins.

"Yeah, and I'm sure that's Dean. I know who you are." We're all taken aback. "They warned me about you."

"Who did?" Castiel steps forward, frowning.

"The angels. Now where the hell is Zachariah?"

"Joy, the kid meets angels and he meets the douchiest of them all," Gabriel grumbles, rubbing his forehead.

"What're you talking about?" Adam scowls at Gabriel. "Zachariah brought me back."

"So why don't you just tell us everything? Start from the beginning," Dean suggests, crossing his arms.

"Well, I was dead and in Heaven. Except it, uh...it kinda looked like my prom and I was making out with this girl, her name was Kristin McGee-"

"Did you get to third base?" Dean interrupts.

I whack him on the arm. "Priorities."

"Keep going," Sam prompts Adam.

"Well, these…these angels, they popped out of nowhere, and they tell me that I'm chosen," Adam says.

"For what?" Sam's eyebrows shoot up.

"To save the world. Me and some archangel are going to kill the Devil."

"I am way too sober for this," Gabriel mutters under his breath.

"Let me guess, this archangel's name is Michael?" I suggest.

Adam stares at me for a moment and I can feel heat rushing into my face under the scrutiny before he nods. "Yeah. I'm his, uh...sword or vessel or something, I don't know."

"But that's insane," Dean protests.

"Not necessarily," Castiel says quietly at last, a bite of sarcasm in his tone. "Maybe they're moving on from you, Dean. He _is_ John Winchester's bloodline, Sam's brother. It's not perfect, but it's possible."

"Why would they do this?" Sam asks, bewildered.

"Maybe they're desperate. Maybe they _wrongly_ assumed Dean would be brave enough to withstand them." I didn't know Castiel could be so sassy.

"You know what? Blow me, Cas," Dean snaps.

Back, Destiel thoughts, back!

"Look, no way. After everything that's happened? All that crap about destiny? Suddenly the angels have a Plan B? Does that smell right to anybody?" Sam demands, looking between me, Bobby, and Gabriel.

I shake my head. "It's more like a weird loophole than a Plan B. Does Heaven even like loopholes?" I look at Gabriel, who shrugs.

"When it suits them."

"You know, this has been a _really_ moving family reunion, but I've got a thing, so-" Adam begins, swinging his legs off the bed and making to stand.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, wait." Sam holds out a hand placatively. "Just sit down and listen, okay? Please." Adam scoffs, but sits down again. "Now, Adam, the angels are _lying_ to you. They're full of crap."

"Yeah, I don't think so." Adam rolls his eyes.

"What makes you say that?" I raise an eyebrow.

"Um, 'cause they're _angels_." He gives me a look that screams "You're an idiot and I'm not."

"They tell you they were gonna roast half the planet?" Sam prompts.

"They said the fight might get pretty hairy, but it _is_ the Devil, right? So we've got to stop him."

"At what cost?" I point out and Adam falters. "People are going to die if any one of you say yes." I aim a pointed glare at Dean, who firmly avoids looking at me.

"You've got another option?" Adam asks and I grimace, knowing I've got nothing.

"Well, we're working on the power of love," Dean snarks, clearly getting back at me for hitting him.

"How's that going?"

"Awesome." I'm starting to understand how these two can be related. The snark-levels are off the chart.

"Look, Adam, you don't know me from a hole in the wall, I know. But I'm begging you. Please, just trust me. Give me some time," Sam pleads, "We're blood."

"You've got no right to say that to me," Adam says bitterly.

"You're still John's boy," Bobby says gruffly, speaking for the first time.

"No, John Winchester was some guy who took me to a baseball game once a year. I don't have a dad. So we may be blood, but we are not family. My mom is my family. And if I do my job, I get to see her again. So no offense, but she's the one I give a rat's ass about, not you," Adam retorts.

"Fair enough," Sam says quietly, "But if you have one good memory of Dad, just one, then you'll give us a little more time. Please."

Grudgingly, Adam nods, his jaw clenched.

* * *

Given Dean's stubborn mindset, we stick him in the panic room, leaving Castiel to watch over him. Adam settles down in the kitchen, picking at a half-eaten sandwich, and Sam watches him like a hawk from our spots in the living room. He heads over to stop Adam when the younger man tries to make a escape not-so-subtly.

"Try this one." Gabriel points at a word from the Enochian book and I glance at it.

"_Balie_?"

"Yeah, and what does it mean?" he prompts.

"Something to do with salt." I'm doing better with my Enochian, the language coming easily to me as I practice more and more words. Maybe it's my old memories acting up, or maybe I'm just good at languages, but Gabriel's pleased by my progress. I look back at Adam, who's been left to his own devices again as Sam returns to the living room.

I wonder if he plays a musical instrument. He has long fingers, like those of a pianist, and I can see him in a high school band or-

"Ariel!" I snap out of it, blinking at Gabriel.

"What?" Did I miss something he'd asked me?

He glances between me and Adam before groaning in despair. "Don't even go down that road."

"What road?!" I demand, but I think he already knows, because he only rolls his eyes at me. I flush bright red.

Sam looks confused, trying to follow our conversation. "What happened?"

"Ariel here has a crush on your half-brother," Gabriel informs him.

"No!" I protest, shaking my head violently. "No way!"

Sam looks, surprisingly, to be on the verge of laughter. "Jeez, Air, of all times..."

"Kid, the Winchester bloodline is nothing but trouble - no offense, Sammich - and getting all lovey-dovey with one of them ends up with you dead," Gabriel warns me.

Sam shrugs. "To be fair, that's just more specific to me. Hey, if she likes him-"

"No, absolutely not," Gabriel argues. I'm surprised Adam hasn't noticed our heated conversation yet.

"-maybe she can get through to him." Sam nods his head towards the kitchen. "Go on, Air, see if you can get him to stick around for a while."

"Nope, you can't make me." I cross my arms stubbornly.

"Actually, I kinda can." With that, Sam physically scoops me up and I yelp in surprise.

"Sam, put me down!" I kick him, but he doesn't even flinch, depositing me in the doorway to the kitchen and glancing pointedly at Adam. I huff and approach the table, making sure to calm down before asking tentatively, "You mind if I sit here?" Adam looks up and shakes his head before going back to staring morosely at the tabletop. I sit down in a chair beside him, noticing Sam's left the kitchen again. I guess since Gabriel hasn't intervened yet, he doesn't mind as much as he lets on.

"I never caught your name," Adam notes.

"Ariel," I say quickly and he raises an eyebrow. My face feels warm and I'm pretty sure I'm red as a tomato as I stammer, "I-I'm Ariel."

"Zachariah warned me about you." I blink, confused. "He said you were a fallen archangel on Lucifer's side."

"_Lucifer_?" My embarrassment is forgotten as I roll my eyes. "That's a load of crap. If I was on Lucifer's side, then wouldn't I be out causing havoc?"

"I guess he was exaggerating that one," Adam admits, "But the archangel stuff, that's true?"

"It is," I say carefully, and we lapse into an awkward silence. Adam's staring at me as if I'm sort of ticking bomb waiting to go off. "I'm sorry," I offer when the silence becomes unbearable, "About this whole mess."

"You didn't know the angels would bring me back," he points out, relaxing slightly. I guess my apology reassures him that I'm not going to explode any second.

"True." I fold my arms and rest my chin on them. "Doesn't make me feel any better about keeping you here."

"You could let me go," he suggests and when I look up at him, startled, he grins wryly. "Just kidding. I think Sam and Dean might skin you alive."

"No kidding. I'm barely on Dean's good side right now as it is." I make a face. "Not to mention it's not a good idea, anyway."

"I thought angels were supposed to be the good guys," Adam says, imitating my position by folding his arms and dropping his chin onto them.

"Some are. Like those two." I jab my thumb towards the doorway to indicate Castiel and Gabriel. "And I used to be one of the good ones, I think."

"You think?" Adam frowns at me.

"I don't remember anything before I fell from Heaven," I admit, "I guess it's better in the long run, but...it sucks sometimes. Especially when Castiel or Gabriel make a reference I should understand, but I don't." Adam's watching me, and my cheeks heat up. "I'm rambling, aren't I? Sorry, I do that a lot, everyone gets sick of it after a while, oh, God, I'm such a spaz."

Adam genuinely smiles then. I can't help but admire how it changes him completely, his face lighting up as his lips curve upwards. "No, it's okay. It's kinda nice to know I'm not the only one totally freaked out by everything."

I grimace. "Understatement. A year ago, I was a biomedical engineering major who didn't even know monsters existed."

"Replace BME with biology and you've got me in a nutshell," Adam agrees.

"Pre-med?"

He nods before sitting up straighter in his chair, excited. "You, too?" I nod back; why had I ever disliked this guy? "Please tell me you took Organic Chemistry."

"Ugh, don't remind me, that was a GPA-killer." I slump back in my chair dramatically and Adam laughs.

I can't believe I'm discussing school with the Winchesters' illegitimate half-brother when Michael wants him for a vessel and Dean is locked up in the basement's panic room. It's like something out of a weird supernatural soap opera, but it's also a slice of normal that I haven't had in what seems like forever. And when Adam looks back up at me with blue eyes bright with amusement, still smiling, I can't bring myself to care about Michael or any other crap coming our way.

At least until blinding white light flashes through the house, and I hear Gabriel scream in pain.

"Gabriel!" I race back through to the living room, but he's gone. A shell-shocked Sam and Bobby remain, and I feel my heart stop.

* * *

**I'm going to ignore any "when are you going to update" messages from now on, because it's been putting some extreme stress on me since I have exams coming up. If I don't update when I say I will, I'd appreciate a little consideration. I get that it means you like my story, but it really just makes me more pressurized to finish a chapter while studying for exams.**

**That being said, this also accounts for why this chapter is essentially crap, but hey, look, Adam's here in honor of the new Percy Jackson movie coming out in August! (even though the first one quite frankly sucked -shifty eyes-) Hopefully, I'll have the next chapter out either Tuesday or next weekend.**

**Leave reviews!**


	26. Chapter 26

**Chapter 26**

* * *

_**Then:**_

_I can't believe I'm discussing school with the Winchesters' illegitimate half-brother when Michael wants him for a vessel and Dean is locked up in the basement's panic room. It's like something out of a weird supernatural soap opera, but it's also a slice of normal that I haven't had in what seems like forever. And when Adam looks back up at me with blue eyes bright with amusement, still smiling, I can't bring myself to care about Michael or any other crap coming our way._

_At least until blinding white light flashes through the house, and I hear Gabriel scream in pain._

_"Gabriel!" I race back through to the living room, but he's gone. A shell-shocked Sam and Bobby remain, and I feel my heart stop._

**_Now:_**

"Where is he?!" is the first thing that comes out when I finally regain my voice. "Where's my brother?!" My heart's beating too fast now, my chest tight with terror.

"I don't know," Sam says, running a hand through his hair agitatedly, "One second, he was there, and the next, he was gone. I'm going to check on Cas." He runs down to the basement as I yank out my phone and dial Gabriel's number - he always picks up his phone, no matter how much he complains that he doesn't need to.

It goes to an automated message. "_The number you are trying to reach is unavailable. Please try again or check if you have dialed the wrong number._" I try again and the same cool female voice greets me.

"Where's Cas?" Bobby asks when Sam returns, obviously missing a trenchcoat-clad angel.

"Blown to Oz." Sam's expression is grim. "There was a banishing sigil on the wall, Dean must've drawn it." I make a note to hit Dean again.

Adam joins us, frowning. "Banishing sigil?"

"Yeah, you draw it on the wall with blood and hit it to send any angels within a certain range away," Sam explains distractedly as he tugs out his own phone to dial Dean's number. It clearly goes to voicemail because he slams it shut again. "He can't have gone far." He leaves the room and I hear the front door slam. Sam probably went to check the salvage yard.

"We'll find them," Bobby reassures me gently, squeezing my arm as he wheels past me to follow Sam. "All of them."

"Yeah, I know." I sit down on the couch, pinching the bridge of my nose. Adam sits down next to me tentatively and I move to allow him space, the closest I can get to an invitation to stay in my worried state. "Gabriel always picks up the phone," I say wearily.

"They'll be okay," Adam says awkwardly and I force myself to nod. The guy's got enough problems without mine being added to the mix.

* * *

An hour passes, Sam and Bobby returning to the house with no luck and dejected looks on their faces, and Adam drifts into a light doze on the couch beside me while we wait for any news. I'm too anxious to sleep, though my eyes are itching with exhaustion; I'm too worried about Castiel and Gabriel. Where do angels go when banished, anyway?

A morbid part of my mind whispers "_Wal-Mart_" and I firmly ignore it. Damn it, fangirl mind, this is _serious_.

I try Gabriel's number again and when it goes to the error message a third time, I decide it's time for desperate measures. I lean forward on my knees, clasping my hands and bowing my head. I don't remember the last time I prayed - it must have been long before I even returned to this universe - but I don't think a formal prayer would be necessary.

"Hey, Gabe," I murmur to the empty air, "You know it's serious if you've got me praying, so, um...just let me know if you're okay. _Please_. Give me a sign or something."

I wait with bated breath, but nothing happens.

"Castiel, you got your ears on? Any chance you could let me know how you're doing?" I try again, this time praying to Castiel. He has even less of a chance of hearing me, but if I can get through to at least one of them...

Nada.

"You're scaring me, guys," I mutter wearily, "You're my brothers. The least you could do is keep me from having a panic attack." I swipe at my eyes, which are prickling at the corners, and look to see Sam hovering in the doorway.

"Sorry," he mumbles, "I was just checking on..." He gestures vaguely at the sleeping Adam and takes a step back. "I-I'll just, uh..."

"No, it's okay." I rub my eyes again as I get up, careful not to disturb Adam. He sleeps on, oblivious to us as we step into the kitchen.

"Bobby's pulling up any trackers we've got on Dean, see if we can find his GPS," Sam explains quietly, "And I've been trying to get a hold of Cas."

"His phone won't work," I say wearily, "I tried Gabriel's three times already."

"We'll find them," Sam reassures me.

"Yeah, you keep saying that." I shove my hands into my pockets and can feel my phone, ominously silent against my fingers. I wish it would start ringing any second, Gabriel or Castiel or even Dean on the other end (okay, Dean's a bit of a stretch, but we're at the end of our rope here).

"I guess it's easy for me to say," Sam admits, running a hand through his hair.

"They're my brothers," I say weakly.

"Yeah, and Dean's mine. And believe me, I'm worried about all of them just as much as you are." Sam squeezes my shoulder. "But worrying won't get anything done."

"What happens to an angel when they get banished?" I ask the question that's been plaguing me for the past hour.

"Good question." Sam's faint reassuring smile is replaced by a grim frown.

"Adam's gone!" Bobby yells suddenly from the living room and we both run back through to find Bobby wheeling towards the now-empty couch.

"What do you mean 'Adam's gone?'" Sam demands.

"Should I say it in Spanish?" Bobby snaps back.

"How is Adam gone?!" Sam rounds on him. "What the hell, Bobby?!"

"Watch your tone, boy!" Bobby retorts, "He was right in front of me, and he disappeared into thin air."

"Did the angels take him?" I suggest, new worry adding to the already-present concern there. What if Adam is hurt by them in order to trick Dean into saying "yes?" What if Dean falls for it?

Suddenly, there's a gust of wind and Castiel is there, a bloody Dean's arm slung around his shoulders.

"Yes," the angel tells me, "That's exactly what happened." For a second, I'm confused and then realize that he's confirming my suggestion: that the angels took Adam.

"What the hell happened to him?" Sam asks, bewildered, as he moves to take Dean from Castiel.

"Me." Once Dean is removed from Castiel, I don't hesitate to literally glomp the angel, throwing my arms around his middle.

"You couldn't've called?" I scold, pressing my face into his crooked tie, and he wraps his arms around me gently.

"I apologize, sister," he says quietly, resting his chin against the top of my head, "I was convincing Dean not to give in."

"Convincing or beating up?" I look over my shoulder as Sam carefully carries Dean back downstairs to the panic room.

"Both." Castiel's lips quirk slightly, though he still looks ashamed that he'd gone to such extremes.

"Dude, you couldn't've saved one punch for me?" I tease, nudging him. At least that's two worries out of the way. Now if only Gabriel would show up or at least call...

"I'll do my best next time," Castiel promises solemnly.

"Wait, wait, you said the angels took Adam?" Bobby interrupts us, bringing the conversation back around. "I thought Gabriel branded his ribs!"

"He must have tipped them off in a dream."

Damn, and I thought I'd done well with Adam, too. "Where would they have taken him?" I ask and Castiel frowns in thought.

"It's a good question. There are several locations the angels could go to in this kind of situation."

My phone buzzes suddenly and I tug it out, relieved to see the name _Gabriel_ flashing across the screen. I accept the call immediately. "Gabe?"

"_Hey, sweetheart._" He sounds like he's run ten miles without stopping.

"You sound like crap, what happened?"

"_Banishing sigil. Dean must've used it. Is Castiel there?_"

"Yeah, he caught up with Dean and brought him back here a few minutes ago," I explain.

"_Good. I'm at home right now, recharging, just give me a minute and I'll be right there-_"

"No, no, no, you stay at home," I cut in. I can hear how tired he sounds and I'm surprised Castiel himself is still standing. "Get some rest, we'll be okay."

"_Ariel-_"

"We'll be fine," I promise and add, forcing a light tone, "Give Cola a hug for me."

"_Yeah, will do. Be careful, Ariel._" He sounds reluctant, but I hear the dial tone, signaling that he'd hung up.

"Van Nuys," Castiel says as soon as I tuck my phone into my pocket.

"Huh?" Eloquent as always, Ariel, well done.

"The angels, they took Adam to Van Nuys." The name doesn't ring a bell in my head. "The place they took Dean before Lucifer's Cage was opened," Castiel elaborates and then it clicks.

"Oh, the pretty room with the statues and things."

Castiel nods. "I will perform a reconnaissance and return shortly." He promptly disappears.

"Well, that's that." Bobby wheels over to me. "I'd check on Dean, but-" He taps on the wheel of his chair.

"Yeah, I know. I'll go harass him when he wakes up. You and Sam better eat something when I send him up." Bobby makes a face at me as I go down to the panic room.

Dean's handcuffed to the bed, thankfully still unconscious, and Sam is perched on a chair nearby nervously.

"Cas knows where they took Adam," I say from the doorway and Sam looks up.

"Where?"

"The place they took Dean before you opened the Cage. Cas went to do a recon now." Sam nods, his expression pinched with worry. "I can watch him, if you want," I offer, "You and Bobby can go eat something."

"Did you hear from Gabriel?" Sam asks, ignoring my offer.

"Yeah, he just called. He sounded worn out, so I told him to stay where he was until he was feeling stronger."

He nods and gets up from his chair. "Okay." He glances at Dean once more and briefly touches his brother's shoulder before moving past me and up the stairs. I take his seat, leaning forward until I'm barely an arm's length away.

"You're an idiot," I tell the unconscious Winchester. He doesn't respond, as I expected, and I'm half-tempted to draw a mustache on him despite the situation. He groans as he stirs and I know immediately that option's out.

"Word to the wise, kid," he rasps when his eyes focus on me, "Don't piss off the nerd angels."

"Sound advice," I agree stiffly; hey, he banished my brothers, I have a right to be pissed. Dean rattles the handcuff experimentally before flopping back against the pillow. "Adam's gone."

Dean looks up at me, wide-eyed. "What?"

"The angels took him. Cas went to do a recon on where he thinks they went."

He nods, grimacing. "Listen, about that sigil..."

"What about it?" I say, and it's a little harsher than I mean it to be. He winces. "They're my family, Dean, and you _hurt_ them. I didn't know what had happened to them until Cas came back with you, and Gabriel's still healing at home."

"I'm sorry." Dean closes his eyes and leans back against the pillow. "I wasn't thinking, okay?"

"That much was obvious." He winces again and I settle for giving his shoulder a squeeze. "For the record, you're my family, too, you jerk." He opens his eyes, startled. "I told you, you guys are all I've got left. I was scared for all three of you stupid bastards," I admit.

"I'm sorry," he repeats weakly, reaching for my hand with his free one. I let my fingers curl around his.

"Yeah, I know." We're nowhere near okay, and I predict a ton of practical jokes and punches coming Dean's way, but it's a start, and Dean's tired smile is worth it.

* * *

Sam returns not long after that and when he sees Dean awake, he hesitates at the doorway. Dean turns a weary gaze on him before they both glance at me.

"I feel so loved," I deadpan, hopping up and heading for the door. Sam ruffles my hair as I pass him, giving me a goodnatured smile before shutting the panic room door behind me as I leave. I make my way upstairs, where Castiel has returned. The exhaustion is beginning to show on his face as he sits on the couch, speaking quietly to Bobby. They both look up when I come in.

"I scouted the place," Castiel tells me, "It's swarming with angels. Adam is definitely there."

"Awesome, so how do we get in?" I drop into the opposite armchair.

"Sam suggests bringing Dean," he answers reluctantly.

"But that's stupid, Dean'll say 'yes' the instant he gets a chance," I protest, knowing that no matter how sorry Dean is, his mind still hasn't changed.

"I agree." Castiel's lips are pursed. "But Sam was adamant that Dean accompanies us."

"If you ask me, the boy's out of his mind," Bobby adds, grimacing.

"I trust Sam on this one," I admit, "He trusts Dean with this, so we should, too."

"In case you haven't noticed, Sam's track record for trusting people hasn't been all too great," Bobby points out and I roll my eyes.

"You're bringing that up _now_? Bobby, it's been more than seven months since the Cage opened. I think Sam's had time to learn from his mistakes." He looks chastised as he nods. "And the same goes for Dean," I aim at Castiel, "Who knows? He might make the right call, given the chance." I don't believe that for an instant, but Castiel nods, too, accepting it.

"Of course. They are our friends and we should trust them." That's reassuring enough for me to believe it, too.

Sam and Dean join us minutes later, Dean rubbing his newly-freed wrist. Sam is tucking a gun into an inside pocket of his jacket.

"We going to get Adam back or what?" the older Winchester says gruffly, avoiding looking at Castiel.

Castiel nods and reaches to touch our shoulders. "Let's go." I don't get a chance to brace myself before we land outside a dilapidated, nondescript factory building.

"Where the hell are we?" Dean looks around.

"Van Nuys, California," Castiel says.

"Where's the beautiful room?" Dean persists.

"In there." Castiel points at the building.

"The beautiful room is in an old factory in Van Nuys, California?" I ask blankly.

"Yes." Castiel looks at our bewildered faces. "Where did you think it was?"

"Uhh, Jupiter? A blade of grass? Not Van Nuys," Dean points out and I can see the irony of such a beautiful, otherworldly room being placed in one of the ugliest buildings ever. The angels have a sick sense of humor.

"Tell me again why you don't just grab Adam and shazam the hell out of there," Sam says, raising an eyebrow as he studies the building, scanning it for weak points.

"There are at least five angels in there," Castiel answers grimly.

"So how do we get rid of them all?" I ask. While I have my archangel's blade on me, I'd really rather not use it. Spilling blood is awful for me, as it is, but murdering angels who are technically my siblings? That's a low even I can't handle sinking to.

"I'll clear them out. You three grab the boy. This is our only chance." Castiel takes off his tie, wrapping it around his hand.

"Whoa, wait. You're gonna take on five angels? Isn't that suicide?" Dean protests.

"Maybe. But then I won't have to watch you fail. I'm sorry, Dean. I don't have the same faith in you that Sam and Ariel do." I wish I don't have to see Dean's face crumple at the thought of Castiel losing faith in him, but my thoughts are derailed when Castiel pulls out a small box cutter and flips the blade open.

"The hell are you planning to do with that?" Sam asks.

"Check the perimeter," Castiel orders and with an uneasy glance at each other, Sam and Dean set off to do that. Castiel holds the blade out towards me. I don't take it, blinking at him. "Ariel, I need you to do this for me," he sighs when it's apparent that I don't understand.

"Do what?" I take a step back.

"Carve a banishing sigil into my skin."

My heart stops and I shake my head rapidly. "No. No, I won't."

"Ariel-" Castiel begins wearily.

"You'll be sent away again!" I shout at him and his eyes widen. "Do you have any idea how terrified I was last time?! You can't put me through that again, Cas, you _can't_-!"

"I'm sorry." He puts the box cutter into his pocket long enough to grasp my shoulders. "I wouldn't ask you for this if I could do it myself, but..." He looks helpless. "I'm giving you three a chance to get Adam out."

"I won't lose you again," I protest, tears stinging my eyes.

"Please, sister." He takes the box cutter back out and holds it out to me. "You remember the shape, don't you?"

"Yes, but-" He holds the blade out and reluctantly, I take it, knowing there's no way I can convince him otherwise. Castiel unbuttons his white shirt and I try not to think about how easy it is to carve the sigil with shallow cuts into his pale skin. There isn't much blood - thankfully - but each cut shines with a dim white light that I recognize as Grace. It's sickening that I'm causing such damage, but the light flickering across each incision is morbidly beautiful in its own right.

The sigil doesn't take long to create and mercifully, Castiel doesn't make a sound while I work. I shove the box cutter at him when I'm done, unable to look at the injuries I'd inflicted on him, and he places a hand gently on my cheek.

"Thank you." I only nod mutely as he buttons his shirt up again, concealing the sigil, before drawing me into a fierce embrace. I hug him back just as tightly, careful not to touch his chest, and press my face into his shoulder.

"Be safe," I whisper against his trenchcoat - oh, God, what if I never see him again? - and he nods.

"You, too." He presses a kiss against my forehead before pulling away as Dean and Sam come around the corner.

"Perimeter's clear," Sam says quietly, glancing between us worriedly. I don't look at him - I don't think I can stand to.

"We'll go in first," Castiel says, looking down at me, "Do you have your blade?" I nod, flicking my wrist and letting it slide into my hand. "Wait for Ariel's signal," he instructs the Winchesters before opening the doors to the building. We go in first, shutting the doors behind us so that Dean and Sam don't follow.

"There." Castiel points at a door across the room from us and we walk forward, but then someone tackles me from behind. I'm pinned to the ground by an angel, whose blade is already poised to stab my heart. I twist my own wrist so that my blade sinks between his ribcage. "Shut your eyes, Ariel!" Castiel warns me, sounding strained - is he being attacked, too? - and I obey as bright white light fills the area. The angel collapses to my side, the ashes of wings imprinted into the cement floor.

Castiel throws his attacker away and the angel joins the other three circling us, their blades twirling expertly in their hands.

"What're you waiting for?!" Castiel taunts and they run forward. He rips open his shirt and presses his hand to the sigil I'd carved there. I shut my eyes against the blinding light and when I open them again, all five angels - Castiel included - are gone. Swallowing back the lump in my throat, I stumble to the door and open it again.

"We're clear." Sam and Dean enter, their eyes going first to the dead angel on the floor before looking around for Castiel. When they don't find him, I point to the door. "That's where Adam is." As we pass the dead angel, I pick up my blade from where it had been tossed aside after I'd stabbed the angel and tuck it back into my pocket.

Sam's hand rests on my shoulder, offering silent comfort in the wake of Castiel's disappearance, and I grasp it in return, wordlessly thanking him. He squeezes my shoulder back before letting go again. Dean's the first to the door and he flings it open to reveal the beautiful room I remember only having seen on television once.

"Adam!" Dean runs in and I can see Adam slumped against the wall on the other side of the room, his mouth bloody. "Hey, Adam, hey." Dean shifts Adam gently and the younger man's eyes open weakly.

"You came for me?" he rasps.

"Yeah, well, you're family," Dean replies. I pass Sam my blade before entering the room, too, kneeling on Adam's other side and helping Dean sit him up.

Adam's lips quirk upwards when he sees me. "Hey, Ariel."

"Hey, yourself." I can't help but smile back despite everything that had happened.

"You're not family," he tells me frankly.

"Yeah, but she's got an embarrassingly huge crush on you and it seemed a shame not to bring her along," Dean replies and I throw a death glare at him. "What? It's obvious!" With the hand not supporting Adam's shoulder, I punch the older Winchester roughly. "Ow!" Dean makes a face at me before turning to Adam. "Good luck with _her_, man, she likes to abuse people."

"Nah, just you," I snark back as we help Adam to his feet. I try not to feel too triumphant when Adam smiles - _he likes me back, SUCCESS!_ - but I can't help it.

"It's a trap," Adam says suddenly, glancing over our shoulders, and I have a horrible feeling I know who's there.

"I figured," Dean answers grimly.

"Did you think it would be that easy?" Zachariah's smug voice greets us and we turn to see him with his hands in his pockets.

"Did _you_?" Dean retorts as Sam approaches Zachariah's back, my archangel's blade held high. Zachariah turns sharply and knocks it out of Sam's hand before throwing the taller man against the wall without even touching him. Sam crumples to the floor, groaning.

Lazily, Zachariah picks up the blade, turning it in his hands and reading the inscription on the hilt. "Well, well, Ariel." He looks up at me, cold eyes glittering with amusement. "Wherever did you find this little toothpick?"

"It's _mine_," I snap heatedly, "Give it back."

"Little girls shouldn't play with big toys. At least this still belongs in Heaven." I make sure not to let any hurt show on my face as Zachariah places the blade down on the table before turning to face Dean. "Now, you know what I've learned from this experience, Dean? Patience." He waves his hand and suddenly, Adam collapses, blood spattering out of his mouth as his chest heaves with wracking coughs.

"Adam!" I go down with him, clutching his shoulders, and he lists sideways until he's resting against me. I ignore the warm, wet blood from his mouth soaking my clothes.

"Let him go, you son of a bitch," Dean snarls.

"I mean, I thought I was downsized for sure," Zachariah continues cheerfully, "And for us, a firing...pretty damn literal. But I should have trusted the boss man. It's all playing out like he said...you, me, your hemorrhaging brothers." Boss man? Surely he can't mean God, so had Michael planned this?

Wait. Did he say "brothers?" As in _plural_?

Sam suddenly starts coughing up blood on cue, doubling over on the floor.

"Sam!" Dean takes a step forward, but Zachariah cuts him off smoothly.

"You're finally ready, right?" Dean glances between Adam and Sam helplessly. "You know there's no other choice. There's never been a choice."

"Stop it." Dean's voice is weak. "Right now, stop it." Adam coughs and I tighten my grip on him as fresh blood soaks the collar of my shirt.

"In exchange for what?" Zachariah crosses his arms.

"Damn it, Zachariah. Stop it, please. I'll do it."

"Dean, _no_," Sam says hoarsely, forcing himself upright, but then crumples again as blood sprays the tile floor.

"I'm sorry, what was that?" Zachariah's smirking, the smug bastard.

"The answer's yes," Dean says gruffly, "You hear me? Call Michael down, you bastard!"

"How do I know you're not lying?" Zachariah tilts his head.

"Do I look like I'm lying?" Dean's expression is broken and weary and no, he does _not_ look like he's lying, much to my dismay. Zachariah turns away from Dean, looking up at the ceiling and murmuring in Enochian. I know enough now to recognize the summoning for what it is. Dean is staring at Sam, who's gazing back at him desperately, but then he suddenly winks.

I can't help the flicker of hope, and it only increases when Dean subtly swipes my archangel's blade off the table, tucking it into his jacket.

Adam shudders against me and I let his head rest against the crook of my neck. "It's gonna be okay, Adam," I whisper against his hair, feeling marginally more confident in that. "I've got you." All I can focus on is his weak, raspy breaths against my neck as he leans heavily against my side.

Dean's started listing conditions by the time I start paying attention to the conversation again.

"I said before Michael gets one piece of this sweet ass…he has to turn you into a piece of charcoal." That's not a half-bad condition, actually. Can I be present for that?

"You really think Michael's gonna go for that?" Zachariah doesn't sound too confident, though.

"Who's more important to him now? You…or me?"

"You listen to me. You are nothing but a maggot inside a worm's ass. Do you know who I am after I deliver you to Michael?" Zachariah snarls.

"Expendable," Dean says lightly.

"Michael's not going to kill me." Zachariah's voice wavers.

"Maybe not." Dean's cold smile morphs into a scowl. "But _I_ am." He yanks out my archangel's blade and rams it upwards into Zachariah's chin. Zachariah lights up like a firework and I shut my eyes, clutching Adam tightly and pressing his head against my shoulder so that he doesn't get his eyes burned out. I happen to like his eyes in his head, thank you very much.

Dean collapses backwards as the light fades and we're left with a dead Zachariah on the floor, wings imprinted into the tile.

"That was morbidly satisfying," I note as Dean wipes the blade clean before handing it to me. I tuck it into my pocket as Dean crosses the room to help Sam up. It's then that I register the shrill noise, like a high-pitched siren, and the steadily-brightening light in the room.

"Go, go, go! Move it!" Dean shoves Sam towards the door as I help Adam to his feet. He stumbles, but I help him across the room and we're almost at the door when it shuts in our faces. Dean and Sam are outside, but we're not.

"DEAN!" Adam yells, rattling the doorknob. "It won't open! Dean, help!"

"Hold on! We'll get you out!" Dean's voice is muffled through the door. "Ariel?!"

"I'm here!" I call back, panic lacing my voice, and Adam slams his shoulder against the door. It doesn't budge. The light's getting brighter, and my eyes are starting to hurt. "_H__elp_!"

"Air, we're gonna get you and Adam out! It'll be okay!" Sam shouts.

"CALL GABRIEL!" I scream as the shrieking grows louder. Adam collapses to the floor, clutching his ears to shield them from the ear-splitting noise, and I follow him down, grasping his shoulder weakly.

"What do we do?" he mouths at me - or at least, I think he does. I can't read lips too well.

I shake my head, tears streaming down my cheeks. "I don't know," I try to say, but my voice is lost within the cacophony around us. Adam draws me against his chest, clutching me tightly, and I bury my face into his shoulder.

Then everything goes black.

* * *

**-cackles madly-**

**You all know me and my love for cliffhangers by now. Hopefully, I'll update the next chapter after my exam on Thursday (if not, probably this weekend).**

**Leave reviews!**


	27. Chapter 27

**Chapter 27**

* * *

_**Then:**_

_"Air, we're gonna get you and Adam out! It'll be okay!" Sam shouts._

_"CALL GABRIEL!" I scream as the shrieking grows louder. Adam collapses to the floor, clutching his ears to shield them from the ear-splitting noise, and I follow him down, grasping his shoulder weakly._

_"What do we do?" he mouths at me - or at least, I think he does. I can't read lips too well._

_I shake my head, tears streaming down my cheeks. "I don't know," I try to say, but my voice is lost within the cacophony around us. Adam draws me against his chest, clutching me tightly, and I bury my face into his shoulder._

_Then everything goes black._

**_Now:_**

It's freezing, nothing like the searing heat that I'd felt before I blacked out, and I can feel goosebumps rising on my skin. I dare to open my eyes and find myself in a dark room.

"Adam?" I call out experimentally. No response comes. "Adam!" I try again, but it's silent. My ears are ringing. "Hello? Is anyone there?" I get to my feet shakily and move forward, but bump into something metal. I try to feel in front of me and my fingers meet a doorknob. Relieved, I tug open the door and am greeted by a forest.

What the hell? My eyes roam over the bubbling stream further down the forest trail and then the familiar trees before I groan in realization.

"I'm in Heaven." This is the forest I had played with Castiel in, one of my best memories and my own Axis Mundi. Well, at least I can see where the road will take me. I head down the forest path. Maybe I'll run into Ash or Pamela, which would be awesome.

But after a few minutes of walking, I realize that's not going to happen. The forest is silent, the sky above me dark and the road stretching ahead with no end in sight. Finally, though, I come across a clearing, which has a patch of sunlight shining into it. Hey, it's better than total darkness. So I step into the clearing and the forest disappears into nothingness.

"Ariel!" I turn at my name being called, but I don't see anyone. Something tugs at my leg and I look down to see a little boy there with bright blue eyes, dark messy hair and tiny black wings fluttering excitedly behind him.

"Cas?" I ask tentatively. Is this a memory? I catch sight of gray feathers curving around me and realize that yes, this is part of my personal Heaven.

"I picked this for you, sister." He holds up a small flower and I take it from him awkwardly. I don't have time for this, I have to find Adam and get back to Earth somehow and - oh, dear God, Castiel's adorable. Okay, five minutes won't hurt. The flower is blue and has tiny petals, which shimmer in the sunlight.

"It's beautiful, Castiel," I can't help but say, "A spring star?"

He nods shyly. "To remind you of Lucifer." I'm frozen with shock, but then I remember that Lucifer is still technically an archangel in this memory. "I know you love him very much, and you miss him when he goes away sometimes. So you can have this flower to remember him by."

"That's very sweet of you, Castiel," I say softly, drawing my lines from the vague memory in the back of my mind. "Thank you." I kneel down and hug the fledgling tightly as he snuggles in closer, his small wings shivering with delight.

"You always were so close to him." I reluctantly let go of Castiel and stand, coming face-to-face with an unfamiliar dark-haired man. He looks vaguely like the John Winchester of 1973, but not quite.

"Michael?"

He nods, his lips pursing before he says, "Most human souls would be unable to view an archangel without a vessel, even in Heaven."

"Guess I'm just special," I reply wryly before cutting to the chase, "Where's Adam?"

"Don't concern yourself with my future vessel."

"He's not going to be your vessel!" I snap back and Michael's eyes narrow.

"He _did_ volunteer himself to me, since Dean refused-"

"But he hasn't accepted yet." Hope builds in my chest. "He hasn't given in to you." If I can get to Adam before then...

"He will. Given time." Michael crosses his arms. "The only reason I spared your soul to Heaven's mercy is that I may keep an eye on you."

"Love you, too," I deadpan and something flashes across Michael's face - pain? Regret? Either way, it's gone in the next instant, his expression impassive once more. "I want to see Adam," I demand.

"I don't think so. Enjoy your Heaven, little sister. You'll be spending eternity in it." Michael disappears in the next instant as I lunge at him.

"Some Heaven," I mutter, kicking a dirt clod near my foot, "More like a prison."

* * *

I wander around Heaven for what seems like forever, walking past memories of my human life as well as fragments of angelic memories. I stop for a while at my old house, playing with my dog, Jonesy, in the backyard while my parents - I guess they're not my parents, but hey, I've been calling them that for eighteen years - roast some corn on the cob nearby. I also find myself, occasionally, in Gabriel's house, usually involving me baking - or attempting to, anyway - while Gabriel volunteers unhelpful information and just ends up making me laugh instead.

Damn, I miss him. And Castiel, awkward as the poor guy is. I wonder if Castiel's all right, after the whole banishing-sigil thing. I'm half-tempted to pray to Michael again, ask him to let me talk to Adam again, when he comes to me first.

"Hello, Ariel," he says stiffly, startling me out of stirring a bowl of cookie batter due to boredom. It drops to the counter, not that the memory of Gabriel nearby notices. I spin around to see Michael standing behind the table on which Gabriel's perched, glancing between us in bewilderment. "I don't recall you ever baking human sweets with Gabriel."

"Yeah, because you weren't there," I snap, shoving my hands into my pockets, "This was, like, two months ago." He glances around the kitchen again, his expression softening slightly. If I didn't know better, I'd say he was feeling nostalgic. Then his gaze settles on Gabriel and sadness flits across his face before disappearing again. Not sure how to deal with this new side of him - I think I preferred him as a douchebag, he's easier to handle that way - I ask nervously, "Did, uh...did you want something, or...?"

"Adam wishes to see you." His eyes flick back up to me, cold and blank once more.

"Why?" I ask, surprised.

"He won't make a decision until he speaks to you, apparently." Michael looks irritated at the thought.

"Oh." My eloquence strikes again. "Um. Okay." I catch him glancing at Gabriel again and offer, "You can hang out here while I'm talking to Adam, if you want." Michael turns sharply to me, startled. "I mean...if you want to be around Gabriel for a while..." I feel stupid for suggesting it now.

"He is a part of your memory," Michael says carefully at last, "I can no more interact with him than I can a wisp of smoke." Well, that just makes me kind of sad for Michael. Wait, no, he's the bad guy, why am I pitying him?

"I'm sorry." Damn my empathy!

Michael nods curtly, dismissing it. "You have ten minutes with Adam. I recommend you say your goodbyes to him." He snaps his fingers and I'm in the beautiful room we had first been taken from.

"Ariel!" I'm startled by the hug I receive; hey, it's not like I've known Adam _that_ long. I don't hesitate to return the embrace, though, clutching Adam tightly. "Are you okay? You hurt?" He pulls back from the hug to check me over.

"I'm okay, I'm fine." I catch his face in my hands and force him to look back up at me. "Adam, listen, Michael's coming for you. He's going to ask you to be his vessel, and you have to say 'no.'"

"Ariel," he sighs, pulling my hands away and grasping my wrists gently, "I'm going to say 'yes.'"

"W-What?" I'm derailed by that. "But it'll kill you." Or worse.

"I just...I wanna see my mom again," he says wearily, "I'm tired of this supernatural crap. If I say 'yes,' it'll all end sooner."

"But what if Michael doesn't cut your soul free?" I point out, "What if he keeps you trapped in your vessel?"

Adam's eyes widen; he hadn't thought of that. "But if I say 'no,' won't he go after Dean?"

"Screw what Michael wants."

It's not convincing enough for him, though, as his expression shifts from horror to despair. "Oh, God, what do we do?" He buries his face into his hands and I can't help but draw him into a tight hug. He leans against me, clutching me for support as he buries his face into my shoulder. "What do we do?" he repeats brokenly and all I can do is cling to him.

"Have you decided, Adam?" I break free of the hug to see Michael standing behind me, waiting patiently for Adam's response.

Adam looks between me and Michael before silently nodding.

"Adam, _no_," I protest.

"If it keeps Dean safe from him, I'll do it," he tells me quietly, taking my hand. "Family, right?"

Swallowing the lump in my throat, I nod. "Family."

He looks back up at Michael. "Okay. Yes."

"Wait." I turn to face Michael, too. "On one condition." Michael tilts his head, considering us. "You cut his soul loose and give him a free pass to Heaven." Adam's grasp on my hand tightens as Michael sighs.

"It doesn't seem like I have a choice."

"No, you don't." I scowl back at him.

"His soul is free the instant I take him as a vessel," he agrees at last, "You have my word."

"Ariel-" Adam's voice breaks and I turn around. He's smiling gratefully despite the tears shining in his eyes. "You didn't have to-"

"I did." I lean up impulsively, knowing I might not get another chance, and kiss him. His lips are warm and soft against mine, a direct contrast to the icy cold sensation I've felt since I first woke up in Heaven. Adam doesn't hesitate to return the kiss, letting it linger for a few moments before pulling away reluctantly and looking up at Michael.

"I consent." Michael snaps his fingers and I'm no longer holding Adam's hand. In fact, I'm no longer in the same room anymore. I'm in Heaven's infirmary now - my own personal Heaven turned holding cell. The memories of my archangel brothers huddle on the other side of the room, eagerly listening to Gabriel's story.

"Michael got his vessel," I tell the room dully - not that anyone notices - and collapse onto the nearest bed, pressing my face into the clean white pillow and sobbing until I have no more tears left to shed.

* * *

What seems like another eternity passes after Adam becomes Michael's vessel, and the first thing I do is send a prayer to Michael, threatening that if he ever came near me again, I would cheerfully paint a banishing sigil on the wall in my own blood and activate it. I'm not sure what it would do in Heaven, but if I were an angel, I certainly wouldn't want to find out.

The worst part is that my archangel's blade is gone, Michael having apparently taken it from me. I miss the security the blade had given me as it rested along the inside of my sleeve, and I miss Adam, and I miss Gabriel and Castiel, and the Winchesters, and Bobby, and...fuck it, I just miss everyone, okay?

I return to wandering through my own memories, spending a little time in each one. I can see why humans love Heaven so much, but the appeal of it is ruined by the fact that I know every single angel that runs the place is a giant dickbag.

And now I've turned into Dean. Great.

It's when I'm wandering through the meadow I had first found the fledgling Castiel in when suddenly a hand claps over my mouth and I'm being yanked backwards behind a tree. I yelp, struggling against the iron grip of my captor, and he shushes me.

"Quiet, Ariel, do you want me to get you out of here or not?" It's then that I finally see his face, dim under the shade of the tree.

"Gabriel?" I gasp, but it sounds more like "Mmiemm?"

He pulls his hand away from my mouth and grins. "Hey, kiddo."

"You have no idea how glad I am to see you." I hug him tightly, my arms wrapping around his neck. He embraces me just as tightly, pressing a kiss to the side of my head.

"Yeah, I can imagine." I can believe that; he sounds purely relieved just to have found me. "You've been gone for weeks. The muttonheads are worried sick about you."

"But how'd you get in here?" I demand, pulling back. "I thought you weren't allowed in Heaven."

"Helloooo. Messenger of the Lord." He rolls his eyes at me. "I know every single shortcut and secret passage in and out of this joint. It took a while to find an open door and sneak in, but here I am. Now the trouble's sneaking out without getting Mikey's attention." He glances around us. "This your Heaven?"

"One bit of it, anyway. Further down is the infirmary." I point in one direction. "And the other side is home."

He raises an eyebrow at me. "So home's a good memory for you, huh?"

"Shut up." I shove his shoulder, rolling my eyes. "'Course it is."

"I guess that'd be a good place to start looking." He sets off at a walk down the path I'd pointed down.

"Looking?" I echo as I follow him.

"For a way out." It doesn't take long to reach my memory of Gabriel's house, and the memory of Cola barks as he leaps up to lick at our hands. "Hey, you got every detail right," Gabriel notes, looking around the living room.

"Seriously?" I roll my eyes. "If you want to admire your own place, do it when we're not in our family's backyard."

He grins sheepishly. "Right, yeah. We're looking for a door with this symbol on it." He digs a piece of paper out of his pocket and shows it to me. It's got a weird symbol on it: a crescent moon lying on its side with a small star above it.

"That's your seal, isn't it?" I ask, recognizing it from one of the books in Gabriel's library.

He nods. "Yeah, I marked some doors so I could get in and out of Heaven fast back in the day." He tucks the paper away again. "It'll be engraved in the frame or the doorknob somewhere. If you touch it, the passage will open." I start searching every door that I find - closets, the library door, the bathroom, etc. - but I don't see it. Gabriel checks the doors, too, but he comes up with nothing.

"Maybe it's upstairs?" I suggest, but then Gabriel tilts his head suddenly, not looking at me.

"Yeah, you know what? Go upstairs. I'll keep looking down here." His tone is odd and I hesitate on the first step.

"Gabriel?" He's staring at the door, as if expecting someone to burst through, and I realize what's happening. "It's Michael, isn't it?"

"Ariel, _go upstairs_."

"No." I stay where I am, clenching the banister.

"If he finds you here, you'll never get out," he snaps back at me.

"And I'm supposed to leave you here, is that it?"

"I can take care of myself."

"I don't care. I'm not leaving without you." I cross my arms stubbornly. The front door begins to rattle and I clutch the banister even tighter.

"I'll be right behind you," Gabriel promises, looking up at me, "But you have to get through that door _now_, before he finds you." I glance between the rattling door and him before nodding reluctantly. "Go!" I turn and take the stairs two at a time, disappearing around the corner of the landing as the door bursts open.

I'm relieved I'm out of Michael's sight, but at the same time, I'm terrified for Gabriel. Still, the sooner I find that passage, the sooner we can both escape. I start searching every doorway for the symbol, but nothing comes up when I search Gabriel's room, the bathroom, and the two guest bedrooms down the hall.

I search my own room door and finally find the seal carved into the metal of my doorknob. I press the tip of my finger to it and it shines with an eerie bluish-white light. I can't hear Gabriel or Michael, but Gabriel's promise rings in my ears, so I turn the knob and step through the door.

The floor gives way beneath me.

I'm falling, and my stomach leaps into my throat, and I expect a splat or a thud, but it never comes. I'm just falling, and falling...

* * *

...and I'm suddenly lying on a rough motel carpet.

"Ariel!" Strong arms scoop me up before I can register where I am and my breath is crushed out of me.

"Let her breathe, Sammy," Dean says with a brief chuckle and Sam loosens his grip, but doesn't let go. I can only weakly wrap my arms around his broad shoulders, dropping my head onto his shoulder in numb relief.

"'M alive?" I mumble.

"Yeah. Yeah, you are." Sam pulls back enough to stroke my hair gently, beaming widely. "Thank God you're okay."

"I don't think God had anything to do with it," I manage wryly and Dean claps my back, grinning.

"Yeah, you're definitely fine." I hug him next, clutching him tightly and breathing in his familiar scent of gunpowder and leather. It's strange how in less than a year, I've gotten more comfort in hugs from professional supernatural murderers than I used to in my mom's homemade soup.

"Gabriel," I say, pulling back, "Where is he?"

"We didn't see him." Dean looks confused. "Last we heard, he was going to Heaven to look for you."

"How long have I been gone?" It had only felt like a day or two to me.

"Almost three weeks now," Sam explains, running a hand through his hair, "We've been searching for secret passages into Heaven since you and Adam were taken, and Gabriel found one last night."

"Yeah, I know, I'm awesome. Please, hold your applause," Gabriel says cheerfully as he pops into the room.

I don't hold back a punch, though. "You jerk, you said you were right behind me!"

"I was!" Gabriel protests - damn him, he didn't even flinch when I hit him - as I shake out the sting from my hand. "...sorta. Look, I had to throw Michael off my trail before I could get upstairs and it took a little longer than I planned."

"I could strangle you," I threaten.

"I'd love to see you try." He smirks and all I can do is yank the idiot into an embrace, burying my face into his shoulder. You'd think I'd have had enough hugging for a lifetime with Sam, Dean, and Gabriel combined, but absolutely not.

"Did any of you hear from Cas?" I ask when I pull back and Sam shakes his head first.

"Haven't heard from him since Van Nuys."

"No angel's ever carved the banishing sigil into his own skin before," Gabriel adds, "So we don't know where he'd have gone."

Well, that just makes me more worried.

"And Adam said 'yes?'" Dean asks wearily and I nod, trying not to let emotion overwhelm me.

"Yeah. I made Michael promise to set his soul free, though."

Dean nods, relieved. "Good, that's...he deserves it."

_Damn straight he does,_ I don't say. It's hard enough to think about Adam, and that's excluding the kiss he'd given me before he had said "yes" to Michael.

I guess something shows on my face, though, because Gabriel studies my face intently before looking up at the Winchesters. "I'm taking her home." Neither of them offer an argument, and I allow them to hug me one more time before Gabriel places a hand on my shoulder and we're instantly back home.

Cola gives his usual excited greeting, leaping up and licking my knuckles until I kneel down and hug the tiny terrier tightly, scratching behind his ears.

"Hey, boy, did you miss me?" He barks in affirmation.

"He's not the only one," Gabriel admits when I finally let go of Cola and get to my feet again, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. "You okay?"

"I will be," I answer honestly. It feels as though I'm never going to be okay again, though, but I know better. I know I'll see Adam again someday if Michael did keep his word, and at least now I'm safe at home with my idiot big brother.

I wouldn't rather be anywhere else.

* * *

**Happy belated April Fool's Day, suckers. You don't have to wait until Saturday to read this chapter, I already had it done before the previous one ;D.**

**I have to admit, I'm surprised that people only JUST realized that I was evil. Do you all seriously not notice my evil cackling every few chapters? -insert mandatory evil cackle here- SUCCESS, I HAVE INFILTRATED THE INTERNET.**

**Leave reviews!**


	28. Chapter 28

******Chapter 28**

* * *

_**Then:**_

_Cola gives his usual excited greeting, leaping up and licking my knuckles until I kneel down and hug the tiny terrier tightly, scratching behind his ears._

_"Hey, boy, did you miss me?" He barks in affirmation._

_"He's not the only one," Gabriel admits when I finally let go of Cola and get to my feet again, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. "You okay?"_

_"I will be," I answer honestly. It feels as though I'm never going to be okay again, though, but I know better. I know I'll see Adam again someday if Michael did keep his word, and at least now I'm safe at home with my idiot big brother._

_I wouldn't rather be anywhere else._

**_Now:_**

We start trying to track Castiel the next day. It had been a pure fluke the last time we had found him; Sam had called us when Castiel had appeared. But weeks go by without any sign at all of the wayward angel, and before I know it, it's nearly the end of April. The weather's gotten warmer, flowers have begun to appear on the trees, and Castiel is nowhere to be found.

"You know, we might have to consider that he could be-" Gabriel begins one day.

"Not unless there's proof." We've had this conversation several times before, and my answer's always the same. "And wouldn't we have found him if he was dead?"

"Not necessarily." Gabriel shuts the book on summoning spells and snaps his fingers. A few bundles of herbs and vials of ingredients appear on the table. "He could have just dissipated if he was pure energy at the time."

"That's reassuring," I deadpan as he pours the ingredients in varying measures into a small clay bowl, draws a few sigils in chalk onto the bowl's side, and tosses a lit match in. A cloud of purple acrid smoke goes up, but there's no other reaction.

"Well, that's the last spell I know." Gabriel grimaces as he sits back in his chair, clearing up the remnants of the spell with a wave of his hand. "We're not gonna get a hold of Castiel unless he contacts us somehow."

"Awesome." I pinch the bridge of my nose as worry sets in for the hundredth time that day. Sam and Dean haven't called in a few days, either, which doesn't really make me feel any better.

"Hey. We'll find him." Gabriel squeezes my shoulder before gathering the books on the table and setting about putting them back. I can only hope he's right.

* * *

It doesn't escape me that I hardly give anything back to Gabriel, for all that he's given me: a home, a family, someone to call on if I'm in trouble, the list goes on. I feel selfish for it, though, and to make up for it, I try doing little things like offering to make chocolate chip pancakes when I know he can zap them up himself if he so chooses, or asking him to teach me more Enochian, which I've almost completely got the hang of. It doesn't ever seem like enough.

Finally, one day not long after we give up on tracking Castiel down, I get my chance to give back.

It's the middle of the afternoon, but the dark gray clouds outside make it look like nighttime. It's raining hard and thundering loudly, lightning flashing every now and then as I make my way in to search for Gabriel. I find him sitting at the window, lightning illuminating his outline briefly before darkness takes over again. Every light in the library's off and I decide not to turn them on as I sit across Gabriel on the window-seat.

He looks up when he registers my presence, smiling wryly. "Hey."

"Hi." I nudge my foot against his. "You okay? You don't usually mope in the dark."

"I'm not moping." He looks affronted.

"Dude, the lights are off and you're staring out the window. You are _so_ moping."

He makes a face at me. "I'm fine, Ariel."

"You don't look fine to me." I shuffle over until I'm leaning against him, and he wraps an arm around my waist, resting his chin on top of mine.

"Just thinking about a few things."

"Like what?" I prompt and he pokes my side.

"Drop it, kid."

"And if I don't?" I raise an eyebrow up at him.

He rolls his eyes. "Pushy." I grin and lean back against his chest. "It's just the usual. I left Heaven to get away from the fighting and now I'm back in it, and I have to be in between Michael and Lucifer, just like before."

"And that's 'cause of me, isn't it?" His hand is near mine, so I let our fingers intertwine. "If I hadn't come back-"

"Don't go there," he cuts me off sternly, "I'm glad you're here, and I wouldn't have you anywhere else. And I would've been drawn back into the fight sooner or later, whether you were here or not. You just sort of...moved things along faster, I guess."

"Sorry," I mumble.

"Don't be. Love you." He presses a kiss to the top of my head and falls silent again, tilting his head to stare out the window.

I watch the raindrops slide down the glass before looking back up at Gabriel. "For what it's worth, I love you, too."

He glances down at me, brown-gold eyes shining in the darkness as he smiles faintly. "It's worth everything, trust me." We settle for watching the storm outside in contented silence.

* * *

Everything changes when Gabriel gets a phone call while I'm skimming through a book on different herbs aimlessly in the kitchen. His expression is tense, his responses clipped, and I look up as he snaps his phone shut.

"Who was that?" I've never heard him sound so irritated before.

"Kali." The Hindu goddess of destruction? "There's a Pagan meeting, let's go."

"Why am I coming?" I demand even as I get up. I know about his life as Loki, but I'm surprised he's dragging me into it when he tends to keep me out most of the time.

"Because the reason they've called the meeting is because they've captured Michael and Lucifer's vessels."

It takes a moment to sink in. "They've got Sam and Dean?" I realize.

"Yep." Gabriel grasps my shoulder and I'm in an opulent hotel room the next second. "Wait here." He then disappears and I sit down at the edge of one of the beds. I can see Sam and Dean's duffel bags in the corner, which gives me some sort of relief. The next second, the owners of those bags pop in, looking angry and shocked.

"Okay, did that just - holy crap," Dean says first, sounding as if he's surprised at the sound of his own voice.

"Yeah, tell me about it," Sam adds, grimacing, and then sees me. "Ariel!"

"Hey." I wave at him and allow him to engulf me in a hug. At least I expect it this time.

"What the hell's going on?" Dean demands the instant Sam lets go.

"Hell if I know." I shrug. "All Gabriel tells me is that there's some kind of Pagan meeting and you two are here, so we should get going, and then I'm here and he's off doing something else."

"Yeah, apparently he's masquerading as Loki downstairs." I guess I should've expected that. "Wait, did you know about this?"

"Dude, my brother's been a Trickster for the past couple hundred years." I raise an eyebrow. "Of course he had to create an alias for himself. You guys have any idea what's happening?"

"Hey, all we know is that the storm of the century's going on outside-" Sam gestures to the pouring rain outside. "-and we pulled in here to get out of the bad weather, and then all this crazy shit started." He turns to Dean. "By the way, next time I say let's keep driving, uh, _let's keep driving_."

"Yeah, _next time_," Dean snaps back, rubbing the back of his neck. "Okay, so what's our next move?"

"Uhh, grab those people out of the freezer, I guess?" Sam suggests.

"There are people in a freezer?" I echo, bewildered.

"Yeah, don't ask," Dean dismisses. "So what, we just bust 'em out? Gank a few freaks along the way if we're lucky?"

"And when are you two ever lucky?" Gabriel's appeared on the couch across the room and I decide everything makes more sense near him, so I migrate over to the couch, letting him throw an arm around my shoulders.

"You know what, bite me, Gabriel," Dean retorts irritably.

"Maybe later, big boy." Gabriel winks and I groan.

"Can you guys _not_, please?" The last thing I need to see is my big brother flirting with anyone, whether he's serious or not.

"The hell are you playing at, man? Luring us here and setting your Pagan friends on us?" Wait, is Dean seriously accusing Gabriel of putting us in this mess?

"You think _I'm_ behind this?" Gabriel rolls his eyes. "Please, I'm the Costner to your Houston. I'm here to save your ass."

"And besides, he's been on Team Free Will for a while now, why would he put you here?" I point out defensively. Gabriel squeezes my shoulders briefly.

"Those guys are either gonna dust you, or use you as bait. Either way, you're uber-boned," he adds to the Winchesters, "I'm just here to pull you two out of the fire."

"Weren't you the one saying that you wanted this to be over?" Sam asks. "If Armageddon happens tonight, then that's the end of it."

"Well, the end is still nigh. Michael and Lucifer are gonna dance the lambada, but not tonight. Not here." I can't believe there's actually a time and place for the Apocalypse. Trust God to be punctual about this sort of thing.

"So why do you care?" Dean asks, shoving his hands into his pockets.

"I don't...care." Gabriel looks sheepish. "But me and Kali, uh...we had a thing."

"Seriously?" I give him an odd look. "You and the Hindu goddess of destruction?"

"What can I say? Chick was all hands." He grins and I shove his arm off me, making a face at him.

"Too much info."

"Do they have a chance? Against Satan?" Sam cuts into our bickering.

"It's a bad idea. Lucifer's gonna turn them into finger paint," Gabriel admits, "So let's get going while the going's good."

"Okay, great. Then why don't you zap us out of here?" Wow, Castiel's disappearance is really making Dean a dick.

"Would if I could, but Kali's got you by the short and curlies. It's a blood spell."

"Those exist?" I ask and Gabriel nods.

"Given the right amount of power, yeah. You boys are on a leash," he adds to the Winchesters.

"So what does that mean?" Dean asks.

"It means it's time for a bit of the old black magic." Gabriel pulls a can of breath spray from who-knows-where and spritzes his mouth with it.

"Dude, eww, you are _not_ seducing a goddess into giving you their blood," I groan.

"What?" He gives me an innocent look.

"Well, at least don't _tell_ me about it, my ears are still innocent." He pats my shoulder reassuringly.

"Okay, yeah. Well, whatever. Well, we're gonna take the hors d'oeuvres in the freezer with us," Dean decides.

"Forget it. It's gonna be hard enough sneaking you mooks outta here," Gabriel counters immediately.

"They called you 'Loki,' right? Which means they don't really know who you are?" Dean raises an eyebrow.

"I told you, I'm in witness protection." Gabriel frowns, not sure whether this conversation's going.

"Well then, how about you do what we say, or we tell the, uh, Legion of Doom about your secret identity. They don't seem like a real pro-angel kinda crowd."

"You did _not_ just threaten him," I cut in, narrowing my eyes at Dean.

"Ariel-" Gabriel begins quietly, grasping my shoulder.

"_No_. How much have we put on the line for you two?" I snap at Dean, who has the decency to look chastised. "We have dropped _everything_ to help you stop the Apocalypse, a fight that _neither_ of us really wanted to be a part of. So don't you _dare_ turn this around on him like he's the bad guy here!"

"Ariel, it's fine," Gabriel insists, pressing his hand down on my shoulder. I glance back at him and he gives me a look that clearly says "Don't push it," so I reluctantly give up, even though I'm still furious on his behalf.

* * *

I join the Winchesters in setting the hostages free while Gabriel goes off to seduce Kali, much to my disgust - there are some things about my brother I don't want to know at all - but I refuse to speak to Dean. It suits him fine, since he's been throwing glares at me as soon as Gabriel left, and Sam is awkwardly caught in between us, casting us both worried looks.

"No, n-no, _please_!" a man screams and we peer around the corner to see him being pulled out of the freezer and into the lobby by two men. One of them pulls out a cleaver and I bury my face into Sam's chest as the man shrieks in horror and then suddenly falls silent.

"It's too late," Sam murmurs to Dean. We wait until the men - whom I now know to be Pagan gods - leave with the dead man's body before heading for the freezer, where people are screaming for help. Sam pulls out his lock-picking kit and sets to work while Dean and I stand guard, Dean passing me a wooden stake silently. I grasp it tightly, relieved to have a sharp object in my hands. I guess that's the angelic nature in me. No wonder I'd been so good with knives when Bobby had first started training me.

Suddenly, Dean is tossed against the wall and an Asian man steps into the room, hand extended. A name tag pinned to his shirt reads "Zao Shen." Assuming he's a Pagan god, too, I raise my stake, but with one flick of his wrist, I fall backwards. The god pins Sam against the door, his forearm at Sam's throat as the hunter chokes, and I grab for the stake again, forcefully stabbing it into the god's back. He freezes and then crumples, letting Sam fall back to the ground.

Massaging his throat, Sam gives me a thumbs-up, but as he reaches for the door handle, he's slammed against it by an invisible force and held there. I whirl around, stake held high again, but am pushed back against the wall beside Sam. My head hits the wall hard and I see stars. Dean is forced to his feet, too, and I see our new attacker: an overweight Indian man with dark skin, holding out his hand with a smirk. His name tag reads "Ganesh."

That Indian god with an elephant for a head? If I wasn't in such a dangerous situation, I'd be positively fangirling.

We're led wordlessly to a large room with a sign that reads "Elysian Fields Grand Ballroom," which is set up like a conference hall. Many gods are gathered at a table - I catch names like "Odin," "Baldur," and "Mercury" briefly when Dean, Sam, and I are shoved into the room - and I see Gabriel sitting in a chair near the head of the table, a slender Indian woman standing in front of him with her hand extended to hold him in place. Sam and Dean are shoved into chairs, but Ganesh holds me in place, his large hands grasping my shoulders painfully.

"How goes the rescue?" Dean deadpans and Gabriel shoots him a dry look.

"Well, surprise, surprise. The Trickster has tricked us," the woman says coldly.

"Kali, don't," Gabriel says quietly.

"You're mine now. And you have something I want." She reaches into his jacket and pulls out a gleaming silver blade that looks very similar to the one I had lost. I'm starting to wish Michael hadn't taken it now. "An archangel's blade from the archangel Gabriel."

The gods around the table start murmuring to each other, surprised by the revelation, and I struggle against Ganesh's grip.

"Okay, okay. So I got wings...like Kotex. But that doesn't make me any less right about Lucifer," Gabriel insists.

"He's lying." Kali's dark eyes flick to me. "He even brought an angelic accomplice." The gods all turn to look at me and I squirm uncomfortably under the scrutiny.

"She's human," Gabriel argues.

"Not really. Not entirely." Kali twirls Gabriel's blade between her fingers expertly as she approaches me gracefully, and I swallow as the tip of the blade is pressed beneath my chin, forcing me to look up at her. "What are you?" she murmurs, her dark red lips barely parting. I remain silent, frozen with fear, and the blade presses harder against my skin. "_Tell me_," Kali persists, her voice harder now.

"Let Ariel go, Kali," Gabriel protests, "She's got nothing to do with any of this."

"Then why is she here?!" Kali demands, not tearing her eyes away from me.

"She's my sister, okay?!" Kali finally lifts the blade away from my skin slightly, a prompt for Gabriel to continue. "She's a fallen archangel, she left Heaven centuries ago. I helped her hide from our brothers."

Kali seems to consider this before pressing the blade against my neck again. A thin rivulet of blood runs down my throat and she pulls out a vial from her pocket, collecting the blood in it. Damn it, now I'm trapped here, and I assume Gabriel is, too. Kali tucks the vial along with the three others on the table before looking up at Gabriel.

"You've been spying on us."

"I'm not a spy, I'm a runaway," Gabriel sighs, "I'm trying to save you. I know my brother, Kali. He should scare the living crap out of you. You can't beat him. I've skipped ahead, seen how this story ends-"

"Your story. Not ours." Kali finally walks away from me and stops in front of Gabriel again, his own blade poised at the hollow of his throat. "Westerners, I swear. The sheer _arrogance._ You think you're the only ones on Earth? You pillage and you _butcher_ in your god's name. But you're not the only religion, and he's not the only god. And now you think you can just rip the planet apart? You're wrong."

I can feel icy fear clutching at my chest as Kali trails the tip of the blade over Gabriel's heart.

"If anyone's going to end the world, it's me." She pulls the blade upwards, preparing to strike, and I struggle harder against Ganesh's iron grip. "I'm sorry." She stabs Gabriel and he screams, his eyes flashing white before the entire room lights up. Another cry echoes with him, and I can't recognize whose it is. It takes a while before I realize the raw, wounded screams are coming from me as the light dies out, leaving Gabriel slumped lifelessly in the chair as Kali pulls the bloody blade out, her expression carefully blank.

"No, _no_, Gabriel-!" I'm kicking and flailing against the Hindu god holding me, tears streaming down my face as I send prayer upon prayer to anyone listening.

_Not him, not my brother, please, please, _please_..._

It's a different pair of arms around me now, and I vaguely register Sam holding me up so that I don't collapse on the spot. I hang limply in his arms as silent sobs wrack my body.

Kali hardly spares us a look as she says quietly, "They can die. We can kill Lucifer." Sam turns me around to press my face against his chest for me, and I crumple against him, unable to do anything else.

Vaguely, I hear Dean carefully say, "All right, you primitive screwheads, listen up."

Sam sounds horrified as he says over my head, "Are you out of your mind?"

"I'm out of options." I keep my face buried in Sam's chest as Dean continues, "Now on any other given day, I'd be doing my damnedest to, uh, kill you...you filthy murdering chimps. But, uh, hey, desperate times. So even though I'd love nothing better than to slit your throats, you dicks, I'm gonna help you." There's a clink of glass and I lift my head to see Dean pouring himself a drink. Seriously, of all times. "I'm going to help you ice the Devil. And then we can all get back to ganking each other like normal. You want Lucifer? Well, dude's not in the Yellow Pages. But me and Sam, we can get him here." He knocks back the glass of whiskey.

"How?" Kali asks warily, arms crossed. Gabriel's blade is still in her hand.

"First you let those main courses go. Then we talk. We can either take on the Devil together, or you lame-ass bitches can eat me. Literally." Dean grimaces, waiting for the goddess's response, and she merely raises an eyebrow, intrigued.

* * *

And that's how Dean and I find ourselves ushering people outside while Sam keeps an eye on the gods in the hotel. I can barely speak more than a few words, but it's enough to reassure the hostages.

"It's okay, go, you're okay." I nudge people out of the hotel and they race to their respective cars, revving them up and leaving the parking lot quickly. Soon enough, the Impala's the only car left, and Dean claps my shoulder.

"You okay?" I shake my head "no" and his expression pinches. "Listen, about that stuff I said before..."

"No, it doesn't matter." I swallow the lump in my throat, but then a rustling noise distracts me.

"Psst." What the...? A familiar mop of dark blonde hair pops up in the backseat of the Impala. "Dean! Ariel!"

"The hell?" Dean's eyes widen as he looks up at the car.

"Act natural!" Gabriel hisses back, but I'm already halfway to the car. Dean rolls his eyes as he follows us, but I'm too busy throwing the door open and sliding into the car before hugging the life out of my brother. "Whoa, Ariel," he chuckles, startled, "Been taking your vitamins lately?" I squeeze him tighter, burying my face into his shoulder wordlessly, and he wraps his arms around me when I sniffle. "Aww, kiddo, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you."

He's real. Oh, God, he's real and he's safe. I tilt my head to press a kiss to his cheek before clutching him tightly again.

"Man, there is nothing natural about this at all. We thought you were dead," Dean snaps as he gets into the front seat.

"Yeah, I can tell." Gabriel gestures at me the best that he can with me clinging to him like a limpet. "You think I'd give Kali my real sword? That thing can kill me!" I smack his shoulder, not caring if it hurts my hand, and he rolls his eyes at me goodnaturedly.

"Then what do they have in there?" Dean presses.

"A fake. Made it out of a can of diet orange Slice." Gabriel sounds proud of himself as he clears his throat and adds, "So, uh, go snag our blood, would ya?"

"What?"

"I heard you in there. Kali likes you. You can get close. Lift the plasma, then we vamoose." Gabriel gestures vaguely to all three of us.

"No. Hand over the real blade," Dean says stubbornly, "Better yet, why don't you sack up and help us take down Lucifer?"

Gabriel stiffens and I finally chance letting him go slightly. I still clutch his hand in a death grip, though. "You can't be serious," he says.

"Deadly." Dean scowls.

"Since when are you butt-buddies with a bunch of monsters? That's all they are to you, aren't they?" Gabriel tilts his head, though I can see the sheer panic on his face at the thought of meeting Lucifer. I can't blame him; I'm not looking forward to seeing the Devil again, either.

"Alright, you know, Sam was right. It's nuts, but it's the best idea I've heard, so unless you have a better one...?" Dean raises an eyebrow expectantly.

"Well, good luck with that. Me? I'm taking Ariel and blowing Jonestown." Gabriel's arm wraps firmly around my shoulders, leaving no room for argument. "Those lemmings wanna run off a cliff, that's their business."

"You know, I see right through you. The smart-ass shell, the whole 'I could give a crap' thing? It all goes to shit whenever you're around the kid, anyone with eyes can see that. Believe me, it takes one to know one."

"That so?" Gabriel's voice is falsely casual, but he squeezes me close all the same.

"Yeah, and maybe those freaks in there aren't your blood, but they are your family, just like her."

"They just stabbed me in the friggin' heart!"

"Maybe, but you still give a crap about 'em, don't you?" The scowl on Gabriel's face says it all. "Now they're gonna die in there without you."

"I can't kill my brother," Gabriel says quietly at last. I keep forgetting that Lucifer is our family, too, and to kill him would be to kill the brother I once saw in Heaven's infirmary, laughing and teasing me and Gabriel with warm, kind words. It hits me like a freight train, then; I don't want that archangel dead.

"Can't or won't?" Dean asks and when Gabriel doesn't respond, he snaps, "That's what I thought."

"You're such a hypocrite," I accuse, finally speaking for the first time, and Dean's shocked eyes turn on me. "As if you'd kill Sam if it came down to it." His jaw clenches and he gets out of the car, slamming the door shut. Gabriel's arm tightens around my shoulders and I turn into the embrace, curling up against his chest. He leans his head against mine and I answer his silent question. "I'm staying."

"Ariel," he begins quietly, pulling back slightly to look at me.

"They're my family, too, even if Dean's a total idiot." Gabriel's lips quirk upwards. "I can't let them get hurt, not if I can do something about it."

"It's suicide," he warns me.

"I've been there before." I smile wryly at the grimace on his face before leaning up to press a kiss to his forehead. "You don't have to look out for me all the time."

"'Course I do." He chucks my chin lightly. "I'm your big brother. Kinda my job."

"Not this time, it isn't." I give him one last squeeze before reluctantly letting go and getting out of the car. "If you're going, I'll see you at home."

"Yeah." His voice is quiet as he stares down at his clasped hands in his lap, frowning. I force myself to shut the door behind me and return to the hotel.

* * *

**Okay, I know Ganesh in _Supernatural_ was African-American, and that annoyed the HELL out of me. So I made him Indian, as he is a Hindu god. (and that had nothing to do with the fact that I'm Indian nope not at all -shifty eyes-)**

**Prepare for the feels and leave reviews! :)**


	29. Chapter 29

**Chapter** **29**

* * *

_**Then:**_

_"They're my family, too, even if Dean's a total idiot." Gabriel's lips quirk upwards. "I can't let them get hurt, not if I can do something about it."_

_"It's suicide," he warns me._

_"I've been there before." I smile wryly at the grimace on his face before leaning up to press a kiss to his forehead. "You don't have to look out for me all the time."_

_"'Course I do." He chucks my chin lightly. "I'm your big brother. Kinda my job."_

_"Not this time, it isn't." I give him one last squeeze before reluctantly letting go and getting out of the car. "If you're going, I'll see you at home."_

_"Yeah." His voice is quiet as he stares down at his clasped hands in his lap, frowning. I force myself to shut the door behind me and return to the hotel._

**_Now:_**

I manage to reach the ballroom at the same time as Dean just as Sam is saying, "I just need you to squeegee some stuff from my ribs and he'll come running." Wow, that's an awkward entrance to a conversation.

"Breaking them would be easier," Kali says, her face perfectly straight.

"Show's over," Dean says, "Sword's a fake, and Gabriel's still kicking. I hate to break it to you, sister, but you've been tricked."

Kali scowls, but before she can retort, the lights begin flickering.

"What's happening?" Baldur asks, looking up at the ceiling warily. A scream echoes from the hall, cut off by a sickening splat.

"It's him," Sam realizes and I clutch onto his sleeve.

"How?" Kali's voice is deadly.

"Does it matter? Shazam us outta here, would ya?" Dean snaps.

"We can't," Baldur answers grimly.

"Of course you can't." We all spin around to see Lucifer tilting his head in the doorway calmly. "You didn't say mother-may-I." We all take an involuntary step back as he enters the ballroom. "Sam, Dean, good to see you again." He inclines his head towards the Winchesters and then smiles at me. I try not to shudder. "Hello, Ariel."

"Hey, Luce." The nickname comes almost naturally despite my terror and something flashes across his face that, if I didn't know better, I would have classified as nostalgia and regret. I can see that the peeled, blistered parts of his face have grown larger, leaving gaping sores that won't seem to heal, and that his entire body is spattered with blood.

Baldur takes a step forward and Kali cautions, "Baldur, don't."

"You think you own the planet? What gives you the right?" Baldur lunges at Lucifer, but the Devil simply plunges his hand forward, straight through the Pagan god. A half-scream leaves my throat and I press my face into Sam's arm so that I don't have to see the gory sight. He pulls me back as Dean follows him, and we duck behind an overturned table.

"No one gives us the right. We take it," I hear Lucifer say softly. Then a crackling sound takes over the silence and I peek over the table to see Kali's arms on fire. She flings the fire at Lucifer, who doesn't look remotely singed. He tosses her to the floor with a simple flick of his wrist.

"You okay?" Sam asks Dean, who had been closest to the flames. I peer over Sam at him, but he seems to be fine, if a little startled by the sudden fire.

"Not really," Gabriel says before Dean can respond, suddenly appearing at my side. "Better late than never, right?" He grins wearily before pressing a DVD at Dean. "Guard that with your life." He moves to go around the table, but I grab his wrist.

"The hell are you doing?" I demand.

"My job, kiddo." He nudges my chin in an echo of the same gesture he had done less than ten minutes ago.

"I told you, not this time, you don't have to-" I'm cut off when he wraps his arms around me, pulling me against his chest in a fierce embrace. I melt into the warm hug, pressing my face into the material of his jacket. "Gabe?" I mumble against his shoulder and he presses a kiss to my head silently, letting his lips linger there for a long moment. It all feels far too final, and I reach for his sleeve when he pulls away, desperate to keep him there with me. Wordlessly, he strokes my hair back from my face before disappearing. My fingers close on empty air.

"Lucy, I'm home!" Gabriel's voice sounds from the other side of the table and my heart stops. He's facing Lucifer. He's _distracting _Lucifer to get us out. "Not this time. Guys!" Sam and Dean scramble up on his call. "Get the girls outta here." Sam takes my hand, helping me to my feet while Dean gets Kali, and they lead us to the door. I throw a glance back over Sam's arm at Gabriel, but his expression is carefully blank as he stares Lucifer down.

Finally, his eyes flick briefly to me and I scowl at him, a silent message that he had better be right behind us. His mouth quirks briefly in one direction before he returns his attention to the fallen archangel in front of him. I swallow and let Sam lead me away.

"I'm not getting in that thing," Kali protests as we reach the Impala.

"Get in the car, princess," Dean snaps and I'm kind of glad he's being snarky at someone other than me today. I can't help but peer out the window as we drive away from the Elysian Fields, anxiety gnawing at my stomach. I keep expecting Gabriel to pop up at any second between me and Kali, probably making some comment about how awesome he is, but he doesn't show even after the hotel is out of sight.

* * *

Five full minutes later, there's still no sign of Gabriel, and I cave in to my worry.

"Is...do you think he's okay?" The drive had been silent thus far, and the Winchesters start at the sound of my voice. Sam looks over his shoulder at me, his expression pinched.

"He's always okay," he says, trying to sound reassuring for my sake, but I can hear the concern behind his voice. "How many times have we staked him before and he's turned out fine?"

That really doesn't make me feel better when I realize Sam and Dean could have killed him before without ever knowing who he truly was.

Kali huffs and mutters, "Leave me here."

Dean casts her an uneasy look in the rearview mirror as he pulls over to the side of the road. "Gabriel said-"

"I know what he said, and I say leave me here. I'm returning to India." Kali gets out as soon as the car comes to a stop and promptly vanishes, leaving behind only a faint scent of roses and smoke.

"Jeez." Dean relaxes for the first time since we left the hotel. "Talk about a stick up her ass." He glances at me when I don't offer a response and finds me staring out the back window in the direction we'd just come from. "Air, he'll be okay."

"Then why isn't he here yet?" I continue to stare at the horizon when a white light flashes across it.

"Holy crap," Sam breathes, shifting upwards, "Dean, did you see that?"

"Yeah, what the hell?" Dean moves to watch, too, and that's when I double over as my head seems to split open in blinding agony.

"Ariel!" I can faintly hear the car door slamming shut behind Sam and then the door beside me open as he crawls into the backseat with me. "Dean, she's bleeding, grab some napkins or something!"

I have no idea what he's talking about; I can't feel anything outside of the pain in my head.

"Air, come on, focus, talk to me!" Sam's dabbing at my nose gently and I wonder why my nose is bleeding. "What's happening?"

"My head," I manage to gasp out.

"Your head hurts?" I nod jerkily, but that just sends another searing jolt through my head and I crumple against Sam, my hands fisting in the material of his jacket as black spots flicker across my vision.

_It's kind of like Gabriel's jacket_, I note vaguely as mercifully, blackness takes over and I allow my muscles to go limp.

* * *

_Warm light and kind eyes, the color of which can't be described by any earthly term. Golden wings similar to her own silver ones stretching out on either side of the fledgling beside her - her twin, her companion in life._

_"You shall be Gabriel, the Messenger." Her brother bows his tiny head, accepting his name. Large hands, calloused and weathered, reach down to pick her up. "And you, little one? What shall I call you?" Fingers tickle her sides and she squeals, squirming in her Father's embrace. Gabriel laughs, too, pleased simply by his sister's joy. "How about Ariel?"_

_And just like that, she simply_ is.

* * *

_"Come on, Raph, it was just a little bit of fun."_

_"You _broke _your _wing."

_"Spoilsport."_

_"Ariel, what would you recommend as a healing balm?"  
_

_"Arnica, comfrey, and turmeric."_

_"You're letting the _novice_ treat me?"_

_"Be patient with her, Gabriel."_

_"Yes, Gabriel, be _patient_ with me."_

_"Brat."_

* * *

_"This is Castiel." A fledgling with tiny black wings is placed in Ariel's arms. "He is entrusted to you, sister." Michael strokes the young angel's dark hair tenderly before moving away again. It's all pure business to him - distribute each fledgling according to Father's wishes and return to his paperwork and justice-delivering. Ariel isn't like that. She cares for all of her fledglings equally, and tries to show affection for them as often as she can._

_"Hello, little one," she whispers, as if afraid any louder noise would harm the fragile creature in her arms, and brings a wing around them, letting the feathers trail across his soft cheek as she touches one of his wings with the tip of her finger. The black feathers are silky to the touch, still mostly down - it would be a long time until this fledgling would be ready to fly._

_Suddenly, Castiel's eyes blink open, clear and blue and absolutely breathtaking. He giggles and grabs for Ariel's wing with tiny fingers, and her heart swells with love._

* * *

_"Come _on_, Ariel!" Castiel runs ahead as fast as his short legs can carry him down the forest path, his small black wings fluttering excitedly._

_"All right, all right, I'm coming." Ariel scoops him up when she catches up to him, cradling the fledgling close as one of her wings wraps around them both. Castiel giggles and bats at the feathers. "I swear, Samandriel and Inias aren't nearly this much trouble," she teases, referring to the other two fledglings currently in her care. They're old enough to be placed into training sessions with Anael, though, so Ariel takes it upon herself to keep Castiel entertained until he is old enough to join them._

_Castiel pauses worriedly, his tiny fingers clutching at the tip of her wing as his lip quivers. __"Am I trouble?"_

_"Samandriel and Inias aren't nearly this sensitive, either," Ariel comments wryly as she leans down to press a kiss to his forehead. "Trouble you may be, but I love you all the same." Castiel flushes and his wings quiver with happiness. With a soft chuckle, Ariel squeezes the fledgling for a moment before setting him down when they reach their stream. Castiel runs along the pebbled bank, splashing in the shallow water, and Ariel wonders how he would react to the ocean, with its powerful waves and stormy tides and little gray fish that would soon learn to walk._

_He would probably love it. Castiel's odd like that._

* * *

_Castiel nearly steps on a fish. Lucifer nearly doesn't stop him. Ariel nearly has her first heart attack._

* * *

_"Lucifer, _please_! Just apologize, Father will understand! He'll forgive you!"  
_

_"No one can make me love the humans, Ariel. Not Father, not Michael, and certainly not you."_

* * *

_"NO!"_

_"Ariel, don't look!__" A bright light streaks down towards Earth, and a chasm in the ground swallows it up._

_"LUCIFER!"_

_"Ariel, it's too late." Gabriel's voice cracks. __She buries her face into his chest and sobs brokenly._

* * *

_"He's our _brother_, Michael! I wouldn't set him free, just _talk_ to him!"_

_"Father decreed that he be cast down for a reason, Ariel."_

_"Well, maybe Father was wrong!" Time seems to stop._

_"You don't mean that."_

_"And if I do?" Ariel's hazel eyes narrow. "What good has following Father's orders ever done for us? He _left_ us!"_

_"Hold your tongue, sister." Michael's tone is warning. "You are close to blasphemy."_

_"Oh, I'm so _fucking_ sorry."_

_"You are out of line! Leave at once!"_

_"With pleasure_."_ The door slams on her way out._

* * *

_"Ariel."_

_She freezes in her tracks. "Raphael."_

_"You're going to find Lucifer."_

_"...yes." She turns to face him, her eyes wide and pleading. "He's our brother, Raph, and he's all alone down there. If...if I could just _speak_ to him-"_

_"That is forbidden."_

_"I don't care." She lifts her chin defiantly._

_"If you disobey, I _will_ tell Michael and he _will _cast you down, just as he did Lucifer. And after Gabriel disappeared...we can't lose you, too." Raphael's tone softens. "Please, sister. Think about what you're doing."_

_"I am." She lets her eyes meet his. "But I have to see our brother."_

_"Ariel, please-"  
_

_"I'm sorry, Raphael. But I want our family to be whole again."_

* * *

_"You're leaving."_

_"Cas-"_

_"You are!" The tiny fledgling looks wounded. "You're leaving, just as Lucifer and Gabriel did!" Tears well up in his blue eyes._

_"Castiel, no, please don't cry." Ariel kneels down in front of the young angel, placing her hands on his cheeks gently. "I'm sorry, but I have to do something very important. Something Michael won't like. And it's likely you won't see me again. But you have to be brave, little one."_

_Castiel sniffles, rubbing at his button-like nose. "I can't. I'm too scared."  
_

_"Well, it's not bravery if you're not a little afraid." Ariel can't help but smile sadly and Castiel throws himself into her arms, wrapping his small arms around her neck._

_"Please don't go, sister," he cries into her shoulder._

_"I'm sorry." She kisses the top of his head. "I love you so much, baby."_

_He sniffs. "I know." Finally, he lets go, his eyes still damp with tears, and shyly admits, "I-I love you, too."_

_"I know," she teases lightly, poking his stomach. He smiles tremulously and she smooths back his messy dark hair to press one last kiss to his forehead. "Goodbye, Castiel."_

_"Goodbye," he repeats shakily, doing his best to keep his emotions in check. Her heart swells with both pride and sorrow for her youngest fledgling as she gets to her feet and spreads her wings to leave Heaven behind.__  
_

* * *

_"Ariel."_

_"Hello, Gabriel. Or do you prefer 'Loki' now?" Ariel gets up, allowing the bowl of herbs used in the summoning spell to smolder into ash at her feet._

_Gabriel crosses his arms, his eyes narrowed. "How did you find me?"_

_She smiles wryly. "I never lost you."_

_His expression softens slightly. "Yeah, I thought as much." He studies her critically. "You're human."_

_She nods shakily, the last of her composure fading. "I tried to speak with Lucifer, but before I could, Michael took my Grace and-" Her voice catches. "He ordered my execution. Raphael is on his way now."__  
_

_"And what makes you think I can do anything?" Gabriel's calm tone sounds forced._

_"You're still __my brother, no matter what Norse trickery may state otherwise. You're the only one I trust enough for this."_

_He runs a hand through his hair, looking frustrated. "You can't just expect me to drop the life I've made for myself and-"_

_"You think I'd ask that of you?" Ariel's lips quirk despite the hurt in her eyes. "What kind of sister do you take me for? No, just...just end it before Raphael gets here." She holds out her archangel's blade, handle-first._

_Gabriel stares at the blade before pushing it down. "Don't be stupid."_

_"It's this or Raphael. You'd be granting me mercy." She pushes the blade forward insistently. "Please, Gabriel." He takes the blade before throwing it aside and, in the same movement, pulling Ariel into a fierce embrace._

_"You can't ask me for that," he murmurs into her hair, his voice thick with emotion. She shudders against him, finally allowing herself to break down and cry into his shoulder. He presses a kiss to the top of her head before pulling back. "You're not going to die today, Ariel, I can promise that."_

_"But I can't run from Raphael forever," she tells him weakly._

_"You clearly haven't tried dimension-hopping."_

_Her eyes widen. "Father said that was forbidden!"_

_Gabriel raises his eyebrows at her. "You essentially flipped Michael the bird and _now_ you're getting cold feet about breaking the rules?" She flushes, embarrassed. "You can start over there, have a human life. I can wipe your memories and make a fake-you for Raphael to smite here. You'll be safe."_

_Ariel nods, tears brimming in her eyes again. "Thank you. Thank you." She clasps his hand in both of hers gratefully._

_"Close your eyes." She does so as Gabriel presses two fingers to her forehead. She crumples like a rag doll, unconscious, and he catches her, pressing a kiss to her hair as tears stream down his cheeks. "Goodbye, Ariel," he murmurs as the limp body vanishes from his arms._

* * *

I jolt upright and immediately, warm hands are resting on my shoulders. The room is dark and I can't make out whose face it is.

"Air?" That's Sam's voice. I grip his hand weakly.

"I'm okay," I rasp and the edge of a glass is pressed to my lips. I gulp down the water inside.

"What happened?"

"I think I remembered." My head is killing me, crammed to the largest capacity with all the memories it can hold.

"Remembered what? Being an archangel?"

"Everything." I shake my head, but it just makes my headache worse. "Is Gabriel okay?" Sam falters, his hands retracting slightly from my shoulders, and my heart stops. "He...he made it out, didn't he?"

Sam swallows and my frozen heart now sinks in dread. "I'm sorry, Ariel."

A newly-recalled memory - Gabriel clutching me tightly as I sob into his shoulder, terrified about my impending death - flashes across my mind's eye. My eyes burn sharply at the corners as an odd rushing sound starts to fill my ears, drowning out all other noise. "No. No, no, no, he's not, he _can't_ be-"

"I'm sorry." Sam draws me against his chest and I press my face into his shirt as the tears start to fall. "I'm so sorry." I don't want to hear it; all the apologies in the world won't change anything now. My brother is dead.

* * *

I make my way inside the old church, glad that I had convinced Sam and Dean not to come with me. I feel like this is something I have to do alone. I look around and see no one - unsurprising, since the church is technically abandoned. The stained glass windows are either broken or dirty, and the entire place is covered in dust. Still, a church is a church, and it only amplifies my chances of being heard by the person I want to reach.

I kneel down in one of the pews, not caring if my clothes get dusty, and bow my head, folding my hands together. I had never been particularly religious in the other universe, so this is a new experience for me.

"Um...our Father, who art not at home currently, hallowed be Thy name and all that mess of jargon," I murmur awkwardly and my voice, quiet as it is, echoes around the church. "I know it's been a long time since I last spoke to You. And I'm sorry, but I've screwed up a lot between then and now. But if You're out there...if You're listening at all..." I pause, swallowing back the lump in my throat. "He was protecting me, Father. He didn't deserve to die. You brought Castiel back before. I know You have the power to bring Gabriel back, too." My eyes sting and I feel the tears trickle down my cheeks. "I won't ask anything else of You if You grant me this. _Please_."

No answer comes, not that I expect one.

"Is this my punishment?" I ask weakly, looking up at one of the few intact stained glass windows above my head. It's a depiction of the archangel Gabriel visiting the Virgin Mary, and I can't bear to look at it anymore. I scramble to my feet and leave the church to find Sam and Dean.

* * *

"I don't see why we have to watch something called _Casa Erotica 13_," I point out as Dean inserts the DVD into Sam's laptop. Even Sam looks a little disturbed at the thought of his beloved laptop being desecrated like this. We're on the side of a highway just outside Muncie, Indiana, the laptop perched on top of the Impala.

"Gabriel told me to guard this with my life," Dean reminds me, "We'd better find out why." He presses the "play" option and Windows Media Player starts up.

_"Dear diary, being a high-powered business president is super-fun, but sooo exhausting. Sometimes, I just need to relax. I need Casa Erotica_," a sultry blonde reads aloud as she writes in a pink book.

"Kill me now," I groan, trying not to watch the screen. Suddenly, the hotel room's door bursts open and my jaw drops as Gabriel saunters in, silver tray in hand and fake mustache firmly in place. "What the actual fuck?" Sam and Dean look just as bewildered.

"_I've got the kielbasa you ordered_."

"_Ooh, Polish_?"

"_Hungarian_." I try not to gag as Gabriel starts making out with the woman shamelessly.

"The hell's going on?" Dean demands.

Gabriel suddenly breaks the kiss and turns to the camera. "_Boys, Ariel. You're probably wondering what the hell is going on_." Our eyebrows collectively shoot up. "_Well, if you're watching this...I'm dead_." He doesn't look bothered by it, but my throat still tightens with emotion. "_Oh, please, stop sobbing! It's embarrassing for all of us_!"

I can't help a weak laugh and Sam's hand rests on my shoulder gently.

"_Unfortunately, with me gone, you have zero chance of killing Lucifer. Sorry._" Gabriel shrugs. "_But you can trap him. That cage you sprang him from? It's still down there. And maybe, just maybe, you can shove his ass back in. And here's the thing Lucifer himself doesn't know: the key? It's out there. Well...I say key, I mean keys. Plural. Four keys. And they're not really keys so much as rings...the rings of the Horsemen._"

My heart stops and I can see Sam and Dean exchanging looks.

"_Find the keys, stick 'em together, and you can trick Lucifer back into his time-out corner. Oh, and avoid the God-squad along the way. Can't say I'm bettin' on you boys, but hey, I've been wrong before. Another thing. Ariel, you might've noticed you've got your memories back._" Gabriel's eyes seem to meet mine through the screen. "_Well, I kinda had something to do with that. See, when I died, I made sure that anything I did to you got erased. So your whole life back in that other world's gone _poof_ by now and your memories are fully intact. And, uh...check your pocket._"

He winks and something small drops into my pocket. I reach into my pocket and my fingers brush against something warm and sharp, so I pull it out. It's a small glowing crystal on a piece of black cord, and I can feel it practically pulsing because of its proximity to me.

"Oh my God," Sam breathes, "Is that...?"

"_Yeah, that's your Grace,_" Gabriel confirms from the DVD, "_What did you think Michael and I were doing in Heaven, discussing knitting patterns? Nah, I kept him distracted while I grabbed your Grace. __Figured now was as good a time as any to give it back to you._" I look up from the crystal in my palm just in time to receive a smile from him. "_Love you, sweetheart_."

My grasp on the crystal tightens as I swallow back a sob and Sam's hand tightens on my shoulder.

"_And Dean, you were right. I _was_ too scared to stand up to my family, but not anymore. So this is me standing up._" Gabriel grins. "_And this is me lying down_." He turns and begins making out with the neglected woman from the porn movie again, and realizing where this is going, Sam shuts off the DVD quickly, grimacing. I'm relieved; there are some things about my brother I never want to see.

"That's your Grace," Dean repeats, staring at the glowing crystal.

"I guess." My voice is hoarse and I tighten my grip on the black cord holding the crystal in place.

"So what're you waiting for? Angel up."

"Dean." Sam holds up a hand to stop him before kneeling down in front of me. Damn it, he's still almost at eye-level with me. "Air, you don't have to do this. You know that, right?"

"Wait, _what_?" Sam glowers at Dean, who looks incredulous.

"No, I know I have to," I say quietly, "I just...can I have a little time to think it over?"

"Yes," Sam answers before Dean gets a chance to.

"Dude," Dean protests, but Sam glares at him until he grudgingly nods. "Yeah, yeah. Take your time."

"Thanks." I slip the cord around my neck and the crystal rests at the hollow of my throat. It's warm and comforting, as if it's meant to be in contact with me, and we quietly pack up the laptop and get back into the Impala.

Neither Winchester says a word to me, so I lean against the window of the car and close my eyes. All I can see is Gabriel's face, and tears trickle down from beneath my closed eyelids.

* * *

**Okay, I guess I should make this announcement because a lot of people have asked me about it.**

**Sam/Ariel is NOT going to happen. I made it clear that Adam/Ariel was the ship of this story (and romance isn't even the point of this story, for that matter), and I made it very clear that Sam sees Ariel as a little sister. He's ten years older than her, guys. Really?**

**With that said...-dodges rotten fruit for killing Gabriel-**

**Leave reviews!**


	30. Chapter 30

**Chapter 30**

* * *

_**Then:**_

_"No, I know I have to," I say quietly, "I just...can I have a little time to think it over?"_

_"Yes," Sam answers before Dean gets a chance to._

_"Dude," Dean protests, but Sam glares at him until he grudgingly nods. "Yeah, yeah. Take your time."_

_"Thanks." I slip the cord around my neck and the crystal rests at the hollow of my throat. It's warm and comforting, as if it's meant to be in contact with me, and we quietly pack up the laptop and get back into the Impala._

_Neither Winchester says a word to me, so I lean against the window of the car and close my eyes. All I can see is Gabriel's face, and tears trickle down from beneath my closed eyelids._

**_Now:_**

A few days pass without much fanfare. Sam and Dean comb through cases, searching for any sign of Pestilence or Death, while I make a half-hearted attempt to help and fail miserably. Bobby tries to talk to me on the phone once or twice, but I barely hear anything he says and end up giving the phone back to Sam after a few minutes of trying to hold a conversation.

It's like all my senses have dulled after Gabriel's death, and my entire focus narrows down to the crystal hanging around my neck. I wish I had gotten to see Gabriel at least once with all the memories I remember now. If I had known all this stuff back then...maybe I would've done things differently, been less awkward around him, changed _something_.

I just want another chance with my family now.

I take to rolling the crystal around in my fingers absently, the Grace inside warming my hands as I play with it, and that's what Sam and Dean find me doing when they return to the Impala after following up a lead in a hospital.

"Knock it off before you burn yourself," Dean scolds as he slides into the driver's seat.

"It doesn't hurt." If anything, it's like a cup of hot chocolate on a cold winter's day, comforting and stable. "Did you find anything?"

"Yeah, a huge case of swine flu, over seventy infected," Sam answers.

"I'm guessing that's not normal," I say. I remember the huge swine flu craze back when I had been in high school in the other world - in fact, I distinctly remember my History teacher making fun of it by jumping on a desk and spraying us with sanitizer. Yeah, he'd always been a little nuts.

"Yeah, definitely not." Sam tugs out his phone and dials Bobby's number, setting it on speaker.

"_Let me guess, another steamin' pile of swine flu_," Bobby says as soon as he picks up.

"Yep," Dean confirms.

"It doesn't make any sense, Bobby. Pestilence touched down here. I'm sure of it," Sam protests.

"But why is he dealing them soft serve like swine flu when he's got the Croatoan virus up his sleeve?" Dean adds.

"I guess we should be glad it's not the Croatoan," I point out, remembering the virus from the second season of _Supernatural_, which seems like a lifetime ago. Had it really been less than a year?

"_Doesn't matter what the sick son of a bitch is doing, what matters is this is the fourth town he's hit and we're still eating his dust._" Wow, have I really been that out of it? I hadn't even noticed the other three leads. "_Did you get anything? We got even a snowball at probable next target_?"

"Uhh, no pattern we can see," Sam says, shuffling through papers in his lap.

Bobby sighs. "_Well, far as I can tell, he's still heading east, so head east_."

"Bobby, we're in west Nevada," Dean deadpans, "There's nowhere _but_ east."

"_Start drivin', then_." Bobby clicks off the phone.

"Say, I've got an idea." I don't expect the British accent suddenly next to me and I yelp at the sudden appearance of a man in a black suit beside me. Sam whirls around to stab him with the demon-killing knife as Dean swerves accidentally. I end up against the door and the knife ends up in the upholstery of the car as the man vanishes. We catch our breaths, but then the man reappears outside the car, tapping on Dean's window. "Fancy a fag and a chat?"

"Who the hell is he?" I demand as we get out of the car.

"Right, you two haven't met. Ariel, Crowley. Crowley, Ariel." Dean gestures vaguely between us, irritated.

"The demon?" I glance at Crowley, remembering that he had been the one to give us the Colt before we had faced Lucifer in Carthage.

"King of the crossroads, actually. Pleasure." Crowley's dark eyes remain on me and I squirm uncomfortably. "Well, now, this _can't_ be the lost archangel. Far too scrawny."

"Excuse you." I scowl. "I could kick your ass a hundred ways from Tuesday, if I so chose."

"Yes, yes, we're all very impressed, darling." Crowley looks bored as he returns his attention to Dean and Sam. "You're upset. We should discuss it. Not here, but-"

"You want to talk? After what you did to us?" Sam snaps.

"What _I_ did?!" Crowley balks. "I gave you the Colt!"

"Yeah, and you knew it wouldn't work against the Devil!"

"I never!" Crowley looks offended.

"You set us up. We lost people on that suicide run, _good_ people!" My chest clenches at the memory of Ellen and Jo.

"Who you take on the ride is your own business! Look, everything is still the same. W-we're all still in this together." I catch the stammer and realize he's actually afraid. Whatever has happened now, Crowley is genuinely frightened for his life.

"Sure we are." Sam tries to stab him again, but he disappears, hiding behind me.

"Call your dog off," he begs me and I shrug as I turn to face him. I'm not sure why, but I'm much less afraid of him than I think I should be. Maybe it's the return of my archangelic memories, or maybe it's because I don't feel much of anything after Gabriel. Either way, I prefer this to flinching whenever a demon comes near me.

"He hardly ever listens to me, even if you do give me a good reason to."

"I can give you Pestilence." I raise an eyebrow, intrigued, as I cross my arms.

"What do you know about Pestilence?" Dean asks over my shoulder.

"I know how to get him. That's got your interest, doesn't it?" Crowley looks hopeful.

"You're actually listening to this," Sam says to us, sounding disgusted, "Are you friggin' nuts?!"

"_Sam_." He falls silent at my tone, surprised at how stern it is. I don't think I've ever spoken to anyone like that since I fell from Heaven. Even Crowley looks impressed when I turn back to him. "Start talking."

"Look, I swear I thought the Colt would work. It's an honest mistake. It's all part of the learning process. But nothing's changed. I still want the Devil dead. Well...one thing's changed. Now the Devil _knows_ that I want him dead. Which, by the way, makes me the most buggered son in all of creation."

"Holy crap, we don't care," Dean groans.

"They burnt down my house! They ate my tailor! Two months under a rock, like a bloody salamander! Every demon on hell and Earth's got his eyes out for me!" Crowley yells, losing his temper, "And yet here I am, last place I should be, in the road talking to the Winchesters and their pet archangel, under a friggin' spotlight!" With a wild gesture, the streetlamp above us bursts. Crowley sighs and calms down enough to say, "So come with me. Please. Do you want the Horsemen rings or not?" Seeing our stunned expressions, he rolls his eyes. "Yes, I know all about that. Shall we?"

Sam and Dean look at me and I wonder when I became the go-to person for permission to trust a demon as I nod reluctantly. Crowley clicks his fingers and we're suddenly in a dilapidated old house with cracked windows and dim lighting.

"Here we are," Crowley laments, "My life on the lam. How the mighty have fallen. Single-pane glass, used contraception in the fireplace. The water damage alone-"

"Yeah, yeah, our hearts bleed for you," Dean cuts him off and I'm mildly relieved at the interruption as I inch away from the dirty fireplace. "Now how do you know about the rings?"

"I've been keeping an eye on you lot."

"We got hex bags, we're hidden from demons," Sam points out.

"All but one. That night you broke into my house, our first date, my valet hid a tracking device in your car." I haven't seen anything of that nature, so I'm surprised when Crowley elaborates, "A magical coin that easily trumps your little bags o' bones. It allows me to hear things, too, and my, the things I heard." He chuckles and I have to resist the urge to punch him. "So you want to cram the Devil back in the box? Cunning scheme. I want in."

"You said you could get us Pestilence," I remind him, forcing down my anger.

"Well, now, I don't know where Pestilence is...per se. But I do know the demon who does. He's what you might call the Horsemen's stable boy. He handles their itineraries, their personal needs. He's who you want, believe me. He'll tell us where Sneezy's at."

"Well, how do we get him to spill? Rip out his toenails?" Dean suggests and I grimace at the mental image.

"No. Nuts at his pay grade don't crack. We bring him here, then I sell him," Crowley corrects. Seeing our confused looks, he rolls his eyes. "Please. I've sold sin to saints for centuries. Think I can't close one little demon?"

"All right, so where's this demon of yours?" Dean crosses his arms.

"Niveus Pharmaceuticals. In fact, he's the CEO."

"Awesome, so now we're infiltrating industries, too," I deadpan, "Good to know."

"Give us some time to talk," Sam says stiffly to Crowley, who shrugs.

"Suit yourself, mate. Five minutes." He wanders into a different room and the instant he shuts the door, Sam whirls on us.

"Why are we even listening to him?! This is totally insane!"

"I know," Dean says, grimacing, "But if we can get a lead on Pestilence-"

"Yeah, and since when has trusting a demon gone well for us?!"

"And you'd be the expert on that now, wouldn't you?" Dean retorts sharply.

"Hey, this isn't about Ruby anymore," I interrupt when Sam's eyes widen in hurt and anger. "I believe Crowley about not knowing about the Colt, but this just seems a little too convenient for our purpose, doesn't it?"

"What else can you think of, Air?" Dean turns tired eyes on me. "Unless you can track Pestilence down using your nifty little power-gadget there-" He gestures vaguely at my Grace. "-we're fresh outta luck."

"I can't, anyway," I dismiss, grimacing when I realize he's got a point.

"I still don't like it," Sam decides, scowling.

"One big happy family, are we, then? Fantastic." Crowley pops up again. "Sam, keep the home fires burning."

"What are you talking about?" Dean demands, raising an eyebrow.

"Sam's not coming," Crowley says simply.

"And why the hell not?" Sam snaps.

"Because I don't like you, I don't trust you, and...oh, yeah, _you tried to kill me_!" Crowley retorts furiously.

"There's no damn way. This isn't gonna happen!"

"I'm not asking you, am I? 'Cause you're not invited. I'm asking you." Crowley nods to Dean. "So what's it gonna be?" When Dean remains silent, Crowley scoffs. "Well, then, enjoy your last sunsets."

"Wait, I'll go," Dean says suddenly. Sam shoots him a bewildered look. "What can I say? I believe the guy."

"Right, then. Let's go, little archangel." I stay where I am and Crowley pauses in the doorway, looking at me. "Well, what now?"

"Why do I have to go?" I ask. It's not that I mind, it's just a matter of what use I'd be to them.

"Are you joking? Activate that thing 'round your neck and you'd be a perfect weapon!" Crowley protests and my decision makes itself for me. I take a step back towards Sam, clutching the crystal around my neck protectively and shaking my head.

"I'm not taking my Grace back. Not yet." I'm not ready, I know I'm not. I don't know what will happen if I smash the crystal, and I'm scared of what I might become if my powers return.

"Why, you little..." Crowley snarls.

"Hey!" Dean cuts in, "The kid made her choice, you either respect that or the deal's off." He glances at me and I shake my head again, confirming my decision. Sam squeezes my shoulder as Crowley huffs and storms out. Dean follows him and we watch the Impala drive away.

"Thanks for staying," Sam says quietly and I shrug.

"Wasn't doing it for you, but that's a plus." He shoves my shoulder affectionately and I punch him back, unable to keep from smiling. It's the first time I've done so since Gabriel's death, and my facial muscles are stiff from lack of use, but Sam smiles back all the same, all the anger melting from his face.

* * *

"So you remember everything now?" Sam had tried talking to me about my returned memories before, but I had barely been able to reply then, still grieving for Gabriel and living in my own head. Even now, I feel like everything's falling to pieces, but it's like something in me's cleared up and I can register the world around me again.

"Yeah. It's weird. I can remember things from, like, the dawn of time all the way up to now." Sam's surprise is evident on his face and I grin wryly. "I am literally older than dirt, dude, and now I know it. Feel free to ask about the creation of the planet and stuff."

"Do you remember what God looked like?"

Of course that would be what he asks me first. "Kind of. Like...I remember being created. It was just everywhere and then I just _existed_. I can't really describe things like the color of His eyes, or how His face looked, but I remember His hands when He picked me up. They were big and worn, like He worked with them a lot. I didn't see Him much after I was born. Michael was probably the one to see Him most before everything went to shit."

Sam looks as if he's received Revelation or something. Well, I guess he sort of has. "And you said you raised Castiel, right?"

"Yeah. I wish you could've seen him, he still had the same big blue eyes he's got now." I can't help but grin. "And these tiny little black wings that just kept flapping whenever he got excited, it was _adorable_."

Sam chuckles. "Yeah, I guess I can imagine that." His smile falters as he looks back up at me. "Are you okay? You know, after, uh...?"

"Gabriel?" I finish for him and he nods. "I don't think it's ever gonna stop hurting, not now that I remember everything we'd been through together, but...it's easier than it was a few days ago."

"At least you're talking now." I make a face at him, but he only grins and I can't be mad.

Sam's phone goes off then and he gets up to answer it while mouthing "Bobby" at me, walking into the other room. I let the silence settle in the room, toying with the crystal around my neck and letting it warm my cold fingers as I let my mind wander over newly-recalled memories. I'm prone to doing that nowadays, as a way of stretching my mind and exploring all the stuff that had once been just someone else's life, but is now _mine_.

* * *

_"Why do you insist on tormenting Michael with your inane pranks?" Ariel demands quietly as she plucks loose feathers out of Gabriel's wings. He winces with each tug._

_"Hey, it's not my fault Michael's got a stick up his-"_

_"Watch it," she warns._

_"I was gonna say 'butt,'" he grumbles._

_"Sure you were." She runs her fingers over the top ridge of his wing gently, soothing the pain of tugging feathers out. She loves how soft her brother's wings feel beneath her touch. "You really should groom these more."_

_"Don't have time." He closes his eyes at her gentle touch and she cards her fingers through his hair as she works on smoothing out his wings with her other hand. "Not when I'm delivering messages for Dad and tricking Michael."_

_"Well, maybe if you cut back on the latter-" she begins to point out with a wry smile._

_"How dare you?!" He gives her a mock-offended look and she laughs before going back to stroking down his feathers and straightening them.  
_

_"You're an idiot."_

_"I'm still your idiot, aren't I?" He grins lopsidedly at her._

_"Yes, you are." She kisses his forehead tenderly. "And I wouldn't trade you for anything, brother."_

_"You know the rule, sis, no girly moments." He glares mildly and she chuckles and surrenders, taking a step back._

_"You're done."_

_"Want me to do yours?" He nods to her wings, which are in a permanent state of disarray, and she rolls her eyes._

_"They'd only get messy again in five minutes, you know they've got minds of their own. And anyway, I've got to get back to Raphael in the infirmary, we have work to do." She turns to leave, but Gabriel catches her hand._

_"Hey, um...what you said...me, too. For you, I mean." He has never been as open with his feelings as she has, but she doesn't mind. She understands what he means better than any other angel, or even God, ever would._

_"I love you, too." She leans down to kiss his cheek before disappearing for the infirmary_.

* * *

"Air?" I snap out of the memory to find Sam leaning over the table, frowning. He must have finished his conversation with Bobby and returned while I was still remembering. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I was just remembering." I lift up the crystal slightly to show him and his face clears in understanding.

"What about?"

"Nothing important." That's a lie; to me, even the tiniest moment with Gabriel had always been the most important, but I guess Sam wouldn't see it that way. "What did you and Bobby talk about?"

Sam's expression is oddly shuttered now and I wonder what he's hiding from me when he replies, "He just wanted to know what was going on. I told him about Dean and Crowley."

"Okay...?" I frown at him. "Are you hiding something from me?" I've learned that it's best to be blunt with the Winchesters when I want something, or they'll never understand what I'm asking.

"I'll tell you later," he says and when I continue to glare, he raises his hands in surrender, "Promise. When Dean and Bobby are with us and this mess with Crowley's over." I huff and give up.

* * *

It's another hour before Dean and Crowley return, but only Crowley comes into the house.

"Where's Dean?" Sam demands.

"Now for the record, I'm against this. Negotiating a high-level defection...it's very delicate business."

"What're you talking about?" I pipe up, bewildered.

"I begged Dean not to come back. We should be miles away...from you." Crowley looks at Sam. "He replied with a colorful rejoinder about my 'corn chute.'" Sam snorts humorlessly. "So go ahead. Go ruin our last best hope. It's only the end of the world." Sam shoves past Crowley into the other room and I follow the hunter.

There's a man with a sack over his head, bloodied and dirty, and Dean's standing over him, tying him to a chair.

"What's going on, Dean?" Sam asks when Dean looks up at us.

"I need you to stay on mission, okay? Focused." Well, that's a weird choice of words. "I'm doing this 'cause I trust you."

Normally, I'd be thrilled that Dean's showing a sign of faith in Sam after all this time, but all I can think to say is, "Trust him to do what?"

"Seriously, Dean, what's this all about?" Sam adds.

"Sam?" the man under the hood says suddenly, "Sam, is that you?" Grudgingly, Dean removes the hood to reveal a relatively handsome young man about Sam's age with a bloody face.

"Brady?" Sam gasps. How does Sam know him?

"Brady" chuckles. "Brady hasn't been Brady in years. Not since, oh..middle of our sophomore year?"

"What?" Sam takes a step back, stunned.

"That's right. You had a devil on your shoulder even back then." Brady pauses, a wicked grin tugging at his lips. "All right, now, let it _all_ sink in."

"You son of a bitch." Sam's breathing grows rapid and I have to grab his arm as he lunges forward abruptly. "You son of a_ bitch_!" Dean grabs Sam's other arm, helping me force him back. "You introduced me to Jess!" I'm half-tempted to let Sam go to wreak his vengeance when I hear that.

"Ding, ding, ding, I think he's got it!" Brady laughs despite the pain he's obviously in.

"Let me go!" Sam snarls at me and Dean, "I'm gonna kill him!"

"Damn it, Sam, _listen_ to yourself!" I try to reason with him, but he swings the arm I'm grasping at me, catching me in the mouth as I stumble back in shock. I can taste blood in my mouth and the fight drains out of Sam when he sees it, his eyes widening in horror.

"Air-" Before he can say anything else, Dean forces him out of the room. I can hear him demanding for Dean to get out of the way as the door swings shut behind him, but I can't bring myself to follow them and tell Sam it's okay. My lip stings and it's like my "give a damn" function is broken. I'm numb inside and I can't feel anything but dull pain everywhere.

"Ooh, he _has_ changed since college," Brady says cheerfully and I wheel around to glare at him.

"Keep your mouth shut, demon."

"So you're the little archangel the boss was talking about." Brady tilts his head. "Gotta say, I don't see the family resemblance."

My fists clench, but I force myself to keep a cool head. "You've been talking to Lucifer?"

"Well, more like I've been taking orders from him to the Horsemen. But you knew that already, didn't you?" Brady raises an eyebrow. "Hence the reason I'm here."

"Don't be a smart-ass. Tell me where Pestilence is."

"Sweetheart, you don't have the guts to take _him_ on. Go back to your little doll house where you belong." I desperately wish I still had my archangel's blade just so I can stab him.

"Now, now, darling, play nice." Crowley saunters into the room, jerking his head towards the door when I don't move. "_Leave_, Ariel." I scowl, but storm past him and out of the room, slamming the door behind me. Sam and Dean break off from their argument to look up at me, Sam's eyes wide with regret, and I avoid looking at them.

"Air-" Sam begins and I shake my head.

"It's fine. Drop it." His mouth twists into a grimace, but he nods stiffly.

"How's your mouth?" Dean asks.

"It's _fine_." There's a bite to my tone that Dean knows not to push, so he holds up his hands in surrender and takes a step back before heading to the bathroom. Sam waits for Dean to close the bathroom door before moving too quickly for me to even register what's happening. He grabs a chair and sticks it under the bathroom doorknob.

"SAM!" Dean roars from the other side as I quickly move to get the chair, but Sam grabs me around my waist. I claw at his arms, trying to free myself, but he pushes me into a closet and locks me inside. It's dark and cramped, and I can feel the walls closing in on me.

"Let me _out_, Sam!" I scream, but Sam's already gone. "SAM!" When no response comes, not even from Dean, I sink to the floor of the tiny closet and bury my head in my hands as my entire body shudders.

Why is this _happening_ to me?

* * *

**I would say I'm sorry for the late update, but reality comes first, as do exams. Or more specifically, the hardest Biology exam I have ever taken in my life.**

**I am literally cackling at how many people wailed at me killing Gabriel, though. Guys, it's _canon_. You are literally ranting at me for repeating _canon_. My God, I love you all.**

**Leave reviews!**


	31. Chapter 31

**Chapter 31  
**

* * *

_**Then:**_

_"It's _fine_." There's a bite to my tone that Dean knows not to push, so he holds up his hands in surrender and takes a step back before heading to the bathroom. Sam waits for Dean to close the bathroom door before moving too quickly for me to even register what's happening. He grabs a chair and sticks it under the bathroom doorknob._

_"SAM!" Dean roars from the other side as I quickly move to get the chair, but Sam grabs me around my waist. I claw at his arms, trying to free myself, but he pushes me into a closet and locks me inside. It's dark and cramped, and I can feel the walls closing in on me._

_"Let me _out_, Sam!" I scream, but Sam's already gone. "SAM!" When no response comes, not even from Dean, I sink to the floor of the tiny closet and bury my head in my hands as my entire body shudders._

_Why is this_ happening_ to me?_

**_Now:_**

I've never been particularly claustrophobic, but I'm shaking and panicking in a way I've never done before as my throat closes up. My Grace provides only a marginal amount of comfort as it rests against the hollow of my throat, warming my skin where icy chills creep over it.

"Dean?" I call, but there's no answer. Either Dean's not in the bathroom anymore, or my voice is too muffled for him to hear. Either way, I'm terrified, which is why I yelp in surprise when the closet door abruptly swings open. Sam's on the other side, Dean behind him, and the taller Winchester looks sheepish.

"Sorry, I just-" I don't care for explanations; I just fling myself into his arms and press my face into his collar. Sam freezes, but hugs me tightly, rubbing my back when I start trembling again. "I didn't know you were claustrophobic, Air, I'm sorry," he murmurs against my hair and I sniffle, pressing closer wordlessly. His grip on me tightens apologetically, and the gesture is oddly comforting, even though he'd been the one to shove me into the closet in the first place.

"I got her, man." Dean takes me carefully, wrapping an arm around my shoulders and letting me press closer to his side as he asks, "So what happened?"

"Nothing," Sam answers.

"My ass."

"I'm fine, Dean," Sam insists.

"Yeah? And what about Brady?"

Sam sighs. "Well, like you said...we need him." I'm relieved Sam didn't go off the rails, but a morbid part of me wishes he'd gone ahead and killed the snarky demon in the other room, anyway.

We return to the room where Brady is being held hostage only to find that Crowley's returned, pacing back and forth in front of the bound demon.

"Also might have given said toad the impression that you left your post last night because you and I are - wait for it - _lovers in league_ against Satan," he's saying cheerfully when we enter and Brady groans.

"Who the hell believed that one?" I ask curiously, glancing between them. There is _literally_ no chemistry that Crowley can play off of.

"You'd be surprised what I can spin into a good story or two." Crowley winks at me before turning back to Brady. "Hello, darling. So now death's off the table. Now you get to be on the boss's eternal-torment list with little ol' me."

"Oh, _no_," Brady sighs, "No, no, no, no, _no_..."

"Something else we have in common - apart from our torrid passion, of course - is craven self-preservation." Crowley raises an eyebrow. "So, now, why don't you tell me where Pestilence is at?"

Brady opens his mouth to answer, but then a low howling echoes in the distance. We all freeze because we know exactly what that is.

"Oh, God, Crowley," Brady mutters.

"Was that a hellhound?" Dean demands shakily.

"I'd say yeah." Crowley rummages through his coat and comes up with an ancient-looking coin. "Remember I was telling you about my crafty little tracking device?"

"Rings a bell," I say stiffly, my heart sinking when I realize what's happened.

"Demons planted one on me."

"You're saying a hellhound _followed_ you here?!" Sam says furiously.

"Well, technically, he followed this." Crowley holds up the coin.

"Get me out of here. I'll tell you anything you want," Brady says, panicking.

"Shut up, Brady," I snap.

"Okay, well, then we should go," Dean suggests.

"Sorry, boys, little lady." Crowley pretends to tip an invisible hat at us. "No one knows more about the hounds than I. You're long past the point of 'go.'" With that, he tosses the coin at Dean, who catches it, and promptly disappears.

"Damn it," Dean mutters.

"I _told_ you!" Sam scolds.

"Oh, well, good for _you_," Dean snarks back and I roll my eyes.

"Can we focus, guys?"

"Yeah." Dean huffs and turns to head out the door. "I think there's salt in the kitchen. C'mon, Air."

"I'll watch Brady," Sam calls after us as we leave.

"_Watch_ me?" I hear Brady say hysterically as the door swings shut behind us. "Get me the_ hell_ outta here!"

The growling increases in volume as Dean and I practically race to the kitchen. I find the salt container and toss it to him, but before he can get it to the window, the glass shatters inwards. The hellhound is here, and it's _pissed_. I can practically feel the heat of the large dog's breath on my skin, even though I'm not anywhere near it, and take an involuntary step back.

"Air, don't move." Dean's voice is tense as he shifts slowly towards the door, preparing to throw it open so that we can make a break for it, and the hellhound snarls at the motion. Dean freezes, his eyes flicking up to me worriedly; apparently, the hellhound is closer to me.

"Dean...?" I swallow, terrified; as much as I remember being an archangel, I'm human right now and I most definitely would not like to die at the claws of a hellhound.

"It's okay," Dean reassures me, inching forward slightly in my direction, "It's gonna be okay, Ariel." The movement stirs the hellhound into action, though, and I'm knocked to the ground abruptly. I don't have the wind to scream; it's been pushed out of me as heavy paws press down on my chest. "Air!" Dean yells, but the hellhound's weight shifts as I assume it whips around to snarl at him. Dean takes a shaky step back, unsure of what to do as his eyes flick between me and the invisible weight pinning me down.

"Go find Sam," I say weakly and the hellhound turns back to me. I can feel its damp, hot breath against my face. Dean reaches for something, anything, to hit the hellhound with. "Dean, _go_!" I guess I shouldn't have raised my voice because the hellhound's claws come out, digging painfully into my stomach. I have to choke back a cry of pain as Dean stumbles for the door. As soon as the door closes behind him, the hellhound lunges for the door. I grab blindly for it, catching a handful of invisible fur that smells horribly like sulfur and brimstone, and yank it back, desperate to keep it away from reaching the Winchesters.

The hellhound yelps and spins around in my grasp, and I feel sharp fangs sinking into my shoulder. I scream and hear Sam's muffled voice in the distance yelling my name. The hellhound worries my shoulder, causing the gashes to tear even more and blood to stream down my arm, before tossing me onto the ground. I wince as my torn shoulder makes impact first, and then the hellhound's claws tear into my side. Blood gushes down my front as the claws rake across my abdomen, ripping my guts, and it's only when I let my muscles go limp that the supernatural dog stops.

It sniffs at me a few times and I try to stay still. Huffing in satisfaction that I'm not going to move anytime soon, it pads towards the door and I pray Sam and Dean have had the sense to escape as I close my eyes, trying to breathe through the pain enough to shift myself up. Agony flares through my entire body at the movement and I flop back into the growing puddle of my own blood with a strangled gasp. I'm not going anywhere. Oh, God, I'm going to die here.

Suddenly, there's an almighty crash from the other side of the door and now there are two dogs yelping and barking at each other. Sam bursts into the kitchen, his eyes widening when he sees me bleeding on the floor.

"Shit, Air." He reaches for me and I wince when his hand touches my bad shoulder. "Sorry, sorry." He carefully scoops me up and I can't do much more than let my head fall onto his shoulder.

"Gonna get blood on you," I mumble and feel said coppery substance bubble past my lips.

"Shut up, it doesn't matter." Sam clutches me tightly as he carries me out of the house and towards the Impala. Crowley's in the front seat with Dean, Brady in the back, and Sam ignores both demons as he carefully slides into the backseat beside Brady, holding me against his chest.

"Holy crap," Dean breathes in horror, trying to peer over the driver's seat at the damage done to me, and Sam shakes his head.

"Just drive, Dean, we've gotta get her out of here." Dean revs up the engine obediently and I flinch when the jolt of the car agitates my injuries.

"S-" I can't even form Sam's name, my throat tightening as I cough hard. Blood spatters Sam's shirt.

"Shh, don't talk, it's okay." He strokes my hair gently. "I've got you. I'm here." I bury my face into his chest as much as I can.

"Don't...don't wanna..."

"What? What don't you want?" Sam loosens his grip, fearing he might be hurting me, and I shake my head, my fingers twisting in his jacket.

"Don't wanna die," I mumble weakly at last and he relaxes.

"You're not gonna die, Air, you'll be okay."

"Don't wanna go home...Michael'll be mad..."

"You're not going to Heaven, you're staying right here. You're gonna be just fine, sweetheart." Sam's voice cracks on the petname and through my fading vision, I can see Dean's eyes flick up to us, wide with worry in the rearview mirror.

"S...Sam..." I attempt to speak again, but he presses a kiss against my temple gently, cutting me off. Unconsciously, I let my muscles relax at the tender gesture and lean heavily against him. The crystal around my neck rolls out of my shirt and Sam's eyes widen.

"Ariel, what if I give you your Grace back?" Dean stops the car abruptly and both Brady and Crowley jolt forward, the demons muttering expletives at the sudden stop.

"Will it work?" Dean turns to face us, ignoring the swearing demons.

"I-I don't know," I force out past the blood welling in my mouth. It spills down my chin and Sam wipes it away with his sleeve.

"And here's where we make our exit," Crowley says suddenly, grabbing Brady's shoulder. "No offense, love, but we'd rather not be turned to ash immediately. See you on the other side." He disappears with Brady and Sam opens the car door, yanking me out and laying me down on the grass beside the highway. Dean comes around to join us.

"I'm not gonna do it unless you want me to," Sam tells me as he pulls the cord from around my neck.

"I-" I cough, trying to ignore the metallic taste that coats my tongue, and try again, "I want..." I reach weakly for the crystal hanging from Sam's hand and he nods.

"Okay. Okay, I'll give it back." He strokes my hair a few times before kissing my forehead. "It's gonna be okay, Ariel." Dean kneels down beside us, letting Sam shift me into his arms as the taller Winchester stands, clutching the crystal with hands covered in my blood.

"Ready, kid?" Dean murmurs to me and I force a nod, letting my fingers curl around the material of his jacket weakly.

"Shut your eyes," I rasp a warning as Sam throws the crystal to the ground. It shatters on impact with the gravel and white light surrounds me. I'm vaguely aware of blinding pain worse than anything the hellhound inflicted on me, a sharp agony in the center of my back, and then a numb warmth that envelops me.

And I cease to exist.

* * *

_Haha, no, I'm totally kidding, I'm fine._

_Actually, to be fair, I did cease to exist in a sense. The human part of me, while her mark remains on my mentality, is gone, and that's the part of me that's been telling the story all this time._

_Since things have changed, I guess you guys really don't want to hear the archangel's point of view. I mean, who could relate to that except me? So I'll leave you to see the story from your own perspectives now on, starting from the instant my Grace returned._

* * *

When the light fades away, Sam and Dean dare to crack their eyes open, only to find that Ariel's unconscious in Dean's arms. There's no blood coating her body, and no visible sign of any injury or even life, aside from the faint rise and fall of her chest.

"Is...is she...?" Sam croaks, reaching for Ariel's wrist to check her pulse.

"She's breathing," Dean confirms, squeezing the unconscious girl close for a moment. Sam nods, placing her wrist down again with a heavy sigh of relief. The Grace had done its job; it had healed Ariel completely.

"Why isn't she waking up?" Before Dean can even answer Sam's question, though, Ariel stirs, her hazel eyes slowly fluttering open. They look a little different now, brighter and sharper. "Air?" Sam asks warily and she focuses on him first. She manages a weak smile.

"I'm okay." Dean's the first to yank her up and into a tight embrace, being closer, and she melts into the hug, her arms wrapping around the older Winchester in return. Finally, she pulls back and reaches out one arm to Sam, who shuffles closer and scoops her up into a bone-crushing embrace.

"So you got your wings back?" Dean asks when they all pull apart and Ariel frowns thoughtfully, glancing behind her as if expecting to see wings. Whatever she sees, it causes a bright smile to form on her face. Sam doesn't think he's seen her this happy since before Gabriel died, and something in his chest loosens with relief that she hasn't changed. She's the same girl he'd grown to love as a little sister, Grace or no Grace.

"Yeah, they're back." Then the smile fades slightly as she glances between them. "We should call Crowley, get Pestilence's location from Brady."

And it's back to work again, the revelation that they now have a full-fledged archangel back on their team put behind them. Dean pulls out his cellphone and begins dialing.

* * *

Soon enough, they're all in an alleyway, Brady handing Crowley a slip of paper.

"Yeah, I'm sure Pestilence will be there." He casts a nervous look at Ariel, who's standing stiffly at the edge of the alley, and swallows. "Thanks." She nods curtly; just because he's giving them information, it doesn't mean he's getting off scot-free.

"What do you think?" Dean asks Crowley.

"It's good. You got no reason to lie, have you? Like I said before, you're in my boat now." Crowley smiles coldly at Brady, who scowls.

"You've screwed me for eternity."

"Trust me. Not nearly as long as you think." Crowley pats his shoulder and starts walking to the end of the alley. Ariel waits until he passes her before clicking her fingers. A salt line appears neatly at the edge of the alley, cutting Brady off from escaping. Crowley nods to her. "Cheers, love." She tilts her head in acknowledgment. With the power of her Grace thrumming beneath her skin once more, it's easy to access the cold demeanor she'd once held around demons, no matter how much her human mind screams to run as far as she can.

"Where are you going?" Brady demands, sounding frightened.

"I'm doing you a favor," Crowley tells him and turns to Sam, "I expect we'll be in touch." Sam doesn't look at him as he steps over the salt line to join Ariel and Dean.

"What is this?" Brady turns on them as Crowley disappears.

"All those angels, all those demons, all those sons of bitches...they just don't get it, do they, Sammy?" Dean's voice is mock-casual.

"No, they don't, Dean." Sam's own voice is cold.

"You see, Brady, _they're_ the ones you ought to be afraid of," Ariel adds calmly, shoving her hands into her pockets and wishing she still had her archangel's blade.

Brady scoffs as he watches Sam approach him with the demon-killing knife drawn. "I bet this is a real moment for you, big boy. Gonna make you feel all better?"

"It's a start." Sam's jaw clenches.

"Gonna make up for all the times that we yanked your chain? Yellow Eyes, Ruby, me? But it wasn't all our fault, was it? No, no, no, no. You're the one who trusted us. You're the one who let us into your life, let us whisper in your ear over and over and over again." Ariel wants to hit Brady herself, shut him up, but he continues, "Ever wonder why that is, Sammy? Ever wonder why we were so in your blind spot? Maybe it's because we got the same stuff in our veins and, deep down, you know you're just like us."

Brady lunges at Sam, but Ariel gets there first, slamming her fist forward. The demon crumples backwards, spitting out a mouthful of blood, and Ariel shakes the sting out from her fist. She's really out of practice, and it shows when even a simple punch to a demon hurts her.

"Do you ever shut up?" she demands, rolling her eyes, "This isn't a Bond movie."

"Don't _you_ feel all snug and secure with your little power source tucked away again?" Brady sneers at her before turning back to Sam. "Maybe you hate us so much because you hate what you see every time you look in the mirror. You ever think of that?" He chuckles hoarsely. "Maybe the only difference between you and a demon...is your hell is right here."

Sam glances at Ariel and she moves, pinning Brady's arms behind his back long enough for Sam to stab him with the demon-killing knife. Brady chokes as he dies and Sam yanks the blade out after the orange light flickering within the demon dies. "Interesting theory," the younger Winchester says quietly at last and walks past Dean, out of the alley.

Ariel drops the dead demon to the ground and follows Dean out, dispersing the salt line with a wave of her hand. She could get used to this archangel thing again.

* * *

"You can quit treating me like a ticking bomb," Ariel says wryly when Dean approaches her nervously on Bobby's porch the next day. He flushes as he sits down beside her.

"That obvious, huh?"

"I'll tell you right now, if I was gonna change, I would've changed the instant I got my memories back."

Dean shrugs. "Thing is...I kinda thought you did."

Ariel frowns, looking up. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that I saw you after you thought Gabriel died the first time. Y'know, when Kali stabbed him. You reacted the way any human would, but when you got your memories back...when Gabriel died for real...I dunno, it's like you shut down on us. Honestly, I thought the human you was gone for good." Dean looks embarrassed at having to admit it.

"Well, she's always gonna be a part of me. So you won't have to worry about that." Ariel shrugs, careful not to acknowledge how she had dealt with Gabriel's death. Just thinking about him makes her throat tighten painfully and Dean notices.

"You, uh...you okay? About Gabriel, I mean?"

"Yes." She drops her gaze to her clasped hands in her lap before correcting wearily, "No. I told Sam it was getting easier, but...it's not. It just hurts more and more every day."

"I get it." Dean lets out a brief humorless chuckle. "Believe me, if anyone gets how it feels to lose a brother, it's me." He glances inside and Ariel follows his gaze to where Sam is sitting with Bobby in the kitchen, talking quietly. "But that's what we're meant to deal with. So we stow our crap and keep going, 'cause we've got a world to save."

"And if I _can't_ stow my crap?" Ariel looks back at Dean, who smiles tiredly.

"You're gonna have to." She presses her face against his collar as tears sting her eyes. He clutches her tightly, letting her cry silently into his shirt. "I know. I know it hurts, sweetheart, I'm sorry." He rubs her back gently. He doesn't say it's going to be okay, because he knows from personal experience that it never will be.

But he can at least be there for the kid, and hope that it's enough to get her through.

* * *

**I'm pretty sure most of this chapter was just derping. Ignore the lack of quality.**

**Leave reviews!**


	32. Chapter 32

**Chapter** **32**

* * *

_**Then:**_

_"I get it." Dean lets out a brief humorless chuckle. "Believe me, if anyone gets how it feels to lose a brother, it's me." He glances inside and Ariel follows his gaze to where Sam is sitting with Bobby in the kitchen, talking quietly. "But that's what we're meant to deal with. So we stow our crap and keep going, 'cause we've got a world to save."_

_"And if I _can't _stow my crap?" Ariel looks back at Dean, who smiles tiredly._

_"You're gonna have to." She presses her face against his collar as tears sting her eyes. He clutches her tightly, letting her cry silently into his shirt. "I know. I know it hurts, sweetheart, I'm sorry." He rubs her back gently. He doesn't say it's going to be okay, because he knows from personal experience that it never will be._

_But he can at least be there for the kid, and hope that it's enough to get her through._

**_Now:_**

Archangels don't get headaches. At least that's what Ariel tells herself over and over as her forehead aches dully in a steady rhythm. It's like two different people have been shoved into her head and told to re-enact the Hunger Games in there.

When she tries to explain it to Sam, though, she swears she's not crazy.

"We're all a _little_ crazy," he points out with a wry grin, clearly not quite believing her. He's been quiet ever since the incident with Brady a few days ago, and this is the first time he's spoken to her in that time. While they prepare to hunt Pestilence down, Ariel's been taking the time to reevaluate what's happening to her. Stowing crap is _not _as easy as Dean makes it out to be.

"Yeah, but your version of 'crazy' is digging up graves and stopping Apocalypses," Ariel replies with a grimace as the pain in her head spikes, "My kind of 'crazy' involves two different people in my head who claim to be the same person."

"Which one's talking to me now?" Sam asks and she frowns thoughtfully.

"Human me. The archangel's kind of backed off for a while, trying to get used to things. She's been stuck in a crystal for God knows how long." Sam nods in agreement.

"Well, so long as you don't go 'Glenn Close' on us like Anna did..."

"That's what happens when the human and angel sides don't mix well." Ariel's nose wrinkles. "It messes with your cognition, I think. Something like that."

"We'll stick you in a holy fire ring if we have to," Sam promises and she's not quite sure if he's joking or not. His lips twitch and she gets her answer, so she smacks his arm lightly, careful to watch her newfound strength.

* * *

"You want to do _what_?!" Dean snaps.

"Look, if I can get back control-" Sam begins wearily.

"A one-in-a-million chance, by the way," Bobby interrupts.

Sam grimaces and continues, "-I can open the Cage and jump in. Lucifer will be locked up and the Apocalypse will be avoided."

"Is that even possible?" Dean turns to Ariel. "Getting control back from an archangel?"

"Were it anyone else, I would have said 'no,'" she admits, "You and Sam seem to have a habit of exceeding my expectations." She then turns sharply to glare at Sam. "That was _not_ permission to do it, by the way." He holds up his hands in surrender.

"Did you know about this?" Dean demands and Bobby raises his eyebrows.

"What?"

"About Sam's genius plan to cram the Devil down his throat?" Bobby nods sheepishly. "Great. Awesome. Thanks for the heads-up." Dean turns back to Sam. "You're not doing this."

"Seems to be the general consensus." Sam grimaces.

"Good. End of discussion, then."

Ariel's phone rings and she frowns, pulling it out of her pocket while pointing at Sam warningly. "This isn't over." She flips her phone open. "Hello?"

"_Ariel_?" She would know that voice anywhere.

"Castiel?!" Everyone around her perks up as well. "We all thought you were dead, where have you been?!" She can hardly keep the excitement out of her voice as she sets the phone on speaker so that the others can hear.

"_A hospital._"

"You wanna elaborate?" Dean pipes up.

"_I just woke up here. The doctors were fairly surprised. They thought I was brain-dead,_" Castiel admits. He sounds tired and Ariel can hear the faint beeping of a heart monitor in the background.

"So what happened?" Sam asks.

"_Apparently, after Van Nuys, I suddenly appeared, bloody and unconscious, on a shrimping boat off Delacroix. I'm told it upset the sailors._"

Ariel bites back a laugh at his matter-of-fact tone. "Yeah, I'll bet. Listen, a lot's happened since you were gone. We found a way to break open Lucifer's Cage."

"_How?_"

"Long story, but we're going after Pestilence now, so if you want to come over here-"

"_I can't_." Castiel sounds regretful. "_You could say my batteries are drained._"

"What do you mean? You're out of angel mojo?" Dean says.

"_I'm saying that I am thirsty and my head aches. I have a bug bite that itches no matter how much I scratch it, and I'm saying that I'm just incredibly_..."

"Human," Ariel realizes softly and Castiel sighs.

"_Yes_." She wants nothing more than to be near him at that point, to lend him any strength she can give him, but they're miles apart and she can't pinpoint his location enough to go to him. "_Anyway, my point is that I can't go anywhere without money for...an airplane ride. And food. And...more pain medication, ideally_."

"All right. Well, look, no worries. Uh, Bobby's here. He'll wire you the cash," Dean answers confidently.

"I will?" Bobby demands, bewildered.

"No, I'll come get you," Ariel dismisses, "All I need is your exact location to bypass the sigils."

"_What_?" Castiel sounds confused. "_I don't underst-_" He breaks off. "_You have your Grace back?!"  
_

She grins, unable to help herself. "I might."

Castiel seems to be struggling between annoyance and relief on the other end of the line. "_Why didn't you say anything?!_"

"You didn't ask," she answers cheekily.

He mutters something along the lines of "the Lord is testing me" in Enochian. "_Well, come get me soon, then._"

"Yeah, yeah, will do." She goes to hang up the phone.

"_Wait. Dean, are you still there_?"

"Yeah, Cas. What's up?" Dean frowns.

"_Ariel, give him the phone_." Ariel switches off the speakerphone and hands it to Dean, who presses it to his ear. As Castiel speaks, Dean's expression softens marginally and he looks to be on the verge of emotion.

"Cas, I...it's okay." He pauses and then deadpans, "Thank you. I appreciate that." Castiel must have said something relatively tactless. Dean pulls away the phone and hands it back to Ariel, who takes it.

"So where are you?"

"_East Jefferson General Hospital. My chart says my name is John Doe._" He pauses. "_My name isn't John Doe_."

"It's just a way of saying they don't know your real name. It's fine, I'll be there in five." She hangs up. "I'll go pick up Cas."

"Bring him back here," Bobby suggests.

"Meanwhile, we'll go after Pestilence," Sam adds and Ariel frowns.

"On your own?"

"Hey, it's not like we haven't fought Horsemen on our own before," Dean reminds her.

She grimaces. "War was one thing, but-"

"We'll be fine," Sam reassures her, placing a hand on her shoulder, "And if anything, we'll call you if we need help."

Reluctantly, Ariel nods. "Be careful."

* * *

Within minutes, she's standing in the lobby of East Jefferson General Hospital, and makes her way to the receptionist's desk. The lady looks incredibly bored, smacking bubblegum lazily as she types rapidly on the keyboard in front of her.

Ariel clears her throat. "Excuse me?" The receptionist looks up and raises a penciled eyebrow at her, probably because she looks like she's barely out of her teens. "I'm here to identify a John Doe."

"Which one? We got a lotta them," the receptionist drawls.

"Uhh, he's got black hair and blue eyes?" Ariel tries.

"Oh, you mean the one that's easy on the eyes." The receptionist nods and Ariel tries not to grimace at the thought of her brother being described as eye-candy. "So who is he, then?"

Ariel quickly makes up his last name. "Castiel Novak. He's my brother."

The receptionist hands her a visitor's pass. "Room 340. Go on up." Ariel thanks her and heads to the elevator even as she shoves the pass into her pocket.

When she knocks on the door briefly before pushing it open, Castiel sits up in the bed, his eyes lighting up in relief. "Hello, Ariel."

"Cas." She can't help but smile widely as she shuts the door behind her before impulsively throwing her arms around him. He winces in pain and she flinches, pulling back. "Sorry, I just-"

"No, it's all right," he reassures her, "I am glad to see you, too."

"How's your chest?" She peers at the thick bandages around his torso and he shrugs.

"Healing." He absently attempts to scratch at the bandages and she smacks his hand away lightly.

"Stop that, you'll get scars now that you can't heal them up yourself." She leans back to study him a little more. There's a little scrape near his left eyebrow, and his skin is paler than usual. His eyes seem duller, and there's an unnatural slump to his shoulders. She cards her hand through his hair and he closes his eyes as he leans into the touch.

"It's really you," he says suddenly, opening his eyes again.

She laughs briefly. "Yeah, it's really me. Wings and all."

His face crumples. "I can't see them."

She can't see his wings, either; it seems as though every shred of his Grace has been wiped out of his body. "It's okay. Maybe this is just a temporary thing."

He shakes his head mournfully. "It isn't." Unable to help herself, she tugs him back into an embrace, pressing a kiss into his hair. He smells like disinfectant and the overall sterility of the hospital, and it doesn't suit him at all. He presses his face against her collarbone, looking almost exactly like the fledgling she had left back in Heaven, and her heart melts as she squeezes his shoulders gently.

"It's okay," she murmurs again. There's a long pause as she silently holds him and he allows himself to be comforted through the aftermath of his fall from Grace.

Finally, Castiel breaks the silence tentatively. "Where is Gabriel?"

Ariel's throat tightens abruptly as she swallows and answers quietly, "Dead. Lucifer killed him last week."

Castiel's eyes widen, stunned, before softening in raw sympathy. Being human has done wonders for his ability to express emotion, Ariel notes. "Ariel, I'm so sorry."

"It's fine. I'm-" Her voice cracks, but she pushes ahead, "I'm fine. It's war, right? We knew there would be losses." She tries to smile, but it comes out as more of a pained grimace.

"Gabriel was your twin," Castiel reminds her gently, "It's all right to grieve for him."

"I've grieved enough," she dismisses quickly and adds, "We'd better get going. Sam and Dean have gone after Pestilence on their own and Bobby's waiting on me to get you back to his place."

"Right." Castiel winces as he pulls off the covers and struggles to stand, but with one brush of Ariel's hand against his shoulder, his injuries heal and he stands straighter. "Thank you." She shrugs and holds out her hand. He grasps it and in the next second, they're in Bobby's living room. Castiel stumbles and Ariel pushes him down onto the couch. He grimaces as he sits, rubbing his head. "It's much more disorienting on the other side."

"Now you know how I used to feel." She pats his shoulder gently as Bobby wheels in.

"No more feathers, huh?" he asks wryly and Castiel shakes his head.

"Did Sam and Dean call?" Ariel asks, frowning worriedly.

"They called halfway to Serenity Valley, but I haven't heard from them since," Bobby informs her, "They said they'd pray to you if they needed you to drop in on them."

Ariel nods pensively even as Castiel says, "I'm coming with you if you go."

"Are you nuts?!" Ariel rounds on him. "You're human now, Castiel! Pestilence won't hurt me, but he'll tear you to shreds!"

Castiel grimaces. "At least I won't be useless if I-"

"No. You're staying where it's safe until you can defend yourself," she interrupts.

"Stop treating me like a child. I haven't been a fledgling in a very long time."

The words are a harsh smack to the face and she clenches her jaw. "I know, I just-" She breaks off when a prayer flits across her metaphorical radar.

_Air, it's Dean. Sam and I could really use your help here. If you got Cas to Bobby's already, meet us outside the facility_.

"Ariel?" Bobby asks warily and she snaps out of her daze.

"Sorry, they were calling me. I've gotta go." She concentrates on the location of Serenity Valley Convalescence Home before disappearing. Just as she moves, though, she feels Castiel reach out and grab her shoulder so that he's taken with her. She jerks in surprise, but grabs his hand to keep from losing him.

When they land outside the building, she whirls around to face him.

"What the hell is wrong with you?! That could've killed you!"

Castiel's jaw sets. "I timed it perfectly."

Ariel has to resist the urge to hit him. "I told you to stay behind for a reason!"

"You are no longer my superior, nor are you my caretaker," Castiel snaps and Ariel's chest tightens painfully. "I have the right to decide for myself."

"Cas?" Dean and Sam have pulled up in the Impala and gotten out. "What're you doing here?"

"He stowed away on the archangel express," Ariel says sourly and Sam pats her shoulder reassuringly.

"Well, we're glad you're both here. There's a ton of demons in there with Pestilence and we can't take 'em all out on our own, hence the backup," he explains.

"Yeah, you were right in calling me." Ariel scans the building briefly. "Most of the demons seem to be lower management, though, and centered on the ground floor. If we split them up, we should be able to take them. I won't be of much use as we get closer to Pestilence, though. You remember how it was with Famine and Gabriel." She stumbles briefly over her brother's name, but if the others notice, they don't comment on it.

"So that's settled, then. You and Cas take the lower demons and Sam and I can tackle Pestilence." Dean nods firmly.

Ariel's about to protest Castiel's involvement, but seeing the steely glint in his eyes, she relents. "Fine." Dean and Sam pass Castiel a spare angel's blade from the trunk of the Impala. Ariel can rely on her Grace long enough to get the Winchesters up to Pestilence.

With their respective weapons sorted out, the Winchesters and the angels storm Serenity Valley Convalescence Home.

* * *

Ariel manages to burn several demons out of their vessels as soon as they are mobbed when they enter the building. Castiel, unused to his sudden lack of angelic balance, stumbles every time a demon swipes at him and sloppily stabs them in the chest. Sam and Dean rush on ahead as soon as the path is cleared, allowing Ariel to keep track of Castiel and smite any demon who aims for his unprotected back. With each flare of power, she feels more like her old self again, righteous and strong in battle.

"Watch your left!" she calls to her brother, who spins shakily to block a punch from a demon. He's flung back against the wall and Ariel throws a glare to the demon who had dared to harm her little brother.

"Not a bit of angel left in him," he notes and Ariel slams her fist - which glows with power - straight into his smirking face, smiting him on contact.

"Plenty enough in me, though." Castiel stares at her as she yanks him to his feet. "Just be more careful," she tells him softly, unable to scold him further than she'd already done that day.

He nods, his gaze flicking to the ground. "I'm sorry."

"Save it. We can have a moment after we're out of this place." Ariel glances around at the littered dead bodies around them - only some of them demons and others the victims of Pestilence's experiments. "We should follow up to Pestilence, see if Sam and Dean have gotten to him yet." Castiel nods and follows her up the stairs and through a hallway. He coughs suddenly and she glances over her shoulder at him. "Pestilence?" He nods, rubbing his chest. "Maybe you should stay back."

Castiel shakes his head. "No. I'm coming with you."

Ariel huffs, tired of arguing with him. "If you start throwing up, I'm not cleaning it up." But she will, anyway, no matter what she says. Castiel stumbles behind her, but continues to walk, and Ariel can feel her powers growing steadily weaker as they reach the end of the hallway. Sam and Dean are sprawled out on the floor, coughing weakly and struggling to lift themselves up.

"Now on a scale of one to ten, how's the pain?" a calm voice asks and Ariel sees a gray-haired man with spectacles leaning over them. Castiel storms in before she can react, his knife drawn.

"Cas!" Dean says, startled, and Ariel has to facepalm as she runs in after Castiel, who can't reach Pestilence before collapsing to his knees, coughing.

"How'd you get here?" Pestilence demands, but then his eyes flick to Ariel. "Oh. Figures. Hello, little archangel. Feeling a little under the weather in my presence?"

"Oh, don't even start with the bad puns." Ariel rolls her eyes; she doesn't feel sick at all, but she _is_ powerless, and can feel the lack of Grace like a gaping hole in her chest. It's almost worse than being completely human. She's slammed against the wall with one flick of Pestilence's hand, the angel blade she had borrowed from the Winchesters clattering to the floor, and struggles against the psychic grip.

"Well, look at that," Pestilence says, turning to Castiel, "An occupied vessel, but powerless. Oh, that's fascinating. There's not a speck of angel in you, is there?"

Castiel scowls as he sends his hand up suddenly and Pestilence screams. Two bloody severed fingers, plus one Horseman ring, land on the floor. "Maybe just a speck." Ariel drops to the floor as she feels her powers surging back.

"I take back anything negative I ever said about you coming," she says with a laugh, going over to help Castiel up as Sam and Dean stumble to their feet, Dean taking the ring and tucking it into his pocket.

"It doesn't matter," Pestilence spits at them, drawing their attention, "It's too late." He disappears before Ariel can ask what he means.

The cryptic words haunt them all the way back to Bobby's house.

* * *

**This chapter did _not_ want to be written. I have no idea why, but it refused. Now finals are approaching, so I won't update for at least two more weeks, but hopefully this will tide you over until then.**

**Bloody writer's block _finally_ decided to hit me. Leave reviews!**


	33. Chapter 33

**Chapter** **33**

* * *

_**Then:**_

_Castiel scowls as he sends his hand up suddenly and Pestilence screams. Two bloody severed fingers, plus one Horseman ring, land on the floor. "Maybe just a speck." Ariel drops to the floor as she feels her powers surging back._

_"I take back anything negative I ever said about you coming," she says with a laugh, going over to help Castiel up as Sam and Dean stumble to their feet, Dean taking the ring and tucking it into his pocket._

_"It doesn't matter," Pestilence spits at them, drawing their attention, "It's too late." He disappears before Ariel can ask what he means._

_The cryptic words haunt them all the way back to Bobby's house._

**_Now:_**

"Well, it's nice to score a home run for once, isn't it?" Bobby notes.

Ariel fiddles with the angel blade she had borrowed from the Winchesters, wishing it was her own archangel's blade (which unfortunately is still in Heaven with Michael) as she answers, "Yes, but what Pestilence said, about it being too late? That's a little worrying, isn't it?"

"He get specific?" Bobby asks her and she shakes her head.

"We're just a little freaked out that he might have left a bomb somewhere. So please tell us you have actual good news," Dean says wearily.

"Chicago's about to be wiped off the map. Storm of the millennium. Sets off a daisy chain of natural disasters. Three million people are gonna die."

Everyone gapes at Bobby as Castiel deadpans, "I don't understand your definition of good news."

Ariel resists the urge to facepalm. "Did I accidentally drop you on the head when you were a fledgling or something?" That would explain why Castiel's so out of it with sarcasm and pop culture.

"No, I think you would have remembered that." He turns an innocently-confused look on her and she holds out her palm near his forehead with a grin.

"Here, just give yourself a facepalm for me." Castiel rolls his eyes and shoves her hand out of his face, finally understanding that she's making fun of him.

"Well, Death - the Horseman - he's gonna be there," Bobby interrupts their bickering, "And if we can stop him before he kick-starts this storm, get his ring back-"

"Yeah," Dean cuts in, pretending to sound upbeat, "You make it sound _so _easy."

"Hell, I'm just trying to put a spin on it." Bobby scowls back at him.

"Hey, Bobby, how'd you put all this together, anyway?" Sam pipes up, frowning at the papers on Bobby's desk.

Bobby looks distinctly uncomfortable, which sets off warning bells in Ariel's head. "I had...y'know. Help."

The clinking of glass on glass startles them all into turning around to see Crowley standing in the doorway to the kitchen, pouring some scotch from a bottle into a glass. "Don't be so modest. I barely helped at all." He saunters into the room, scotch in hand. "Hello, boys, Ariel. Pleasure, etcetera." He inclines his head politely in Ariel's direction, clearly wanting to be on her good side most, and she favors him with a mild glare instead. Cringing, he returns his attention to Bobby, smug smirk in place. "Go ahead. Tell them. There's no shame in it."

Both Winchesters turn sharply back to Bobby. "Tell us _what_?" Sam demands.

Bobby grimaces. "World's gonna end. Seems stupid to get all precious over one little...soul."

"You _sold_ your _soul_?!" Dean snapped.

"More like 'pawned' it, I fully intend to give it back," Crowley interrupts cheerfully.

"Well, then, give it back!" Dean glares at the demon.

"I will."

"Now!"

"Did you kiss him?" Sam asks Bobby suddenly.

"Priorities," Ariel sighs.

"Just wondering!" Sam looks at her innocently and Dean actually turns to get Bobby's answer.

Bobby freezes, glancing between all of them like a deer in the headlights before saying loudly, "No!"

"Ahem." Ariel looks at Crowley, only to see him holding out an iPhone with a picture displayed on the screen of him and Bobby kissing.

"Eww," she decides, wrinkling her nose. As much as she loves Bobby, she doesn't want to see him lip-locking with anyone, especially a demon.

"Why'd you take a picture?" Bobby asks irritably and Crowley shrugs.

"Why'd you have to use tongue?" As creeped out as Ariel is, she can't repress a snort of amusement. Bobby glowers at her.

"All right, you know what? I'm sick of this. Give him back his soul," Dean says sternly, glaring at Crowley.

"I'm sorry, I can't." Crowley doesn't look very sorry at all.

"Can't or _won't_?"

"I won't, all right? It's insurance!" Crowley snaps back.

"The hell are you on about?" Dean demands, raising an eyebrow.

"You kill demons. Gigantor over there has a temper issue about it, and you have a smite-happy archangel up your sleeve." Ariel blinks and shrugs, not arguing that point. "But you won't kill me so long as I have that soul in my deposit box."

"You son of a bitch," Bobby grumbles.

"I'll return it. After all this is over, and I can walk safely away. Do we all understand each other?" Crowley smirks.

"Here's a thought, how about the smite-happy archangel _doesn't_ smite you if you give it back right now?" Ariel smiles cheerfully and Crowley rolls his eyes at her.

"No deal, love, sorry." He promptly disappears and she huffs, crossing her arms irritably.

* * *

Dean and Sam disappear into the workshop behind the house while Bobby buries himself back in his books, clearly embarrassed by the situation with Crowley, which leaves Ariel to seek out Castiel for company. She finds him on the porch and nudges his shoulder with her knee.

"Mind if I join you?" He looks up at her and nods curtly. She sinks down onto the porch next to him, her shoulder resting comfortably against his. "I'm sorry I've been babying you lately."

"I'm not a child."

"I know. I just worry, anyway." Ariel smiles sheepishly and shrugs. "I can't help it."

"I understand. You want what's best for me because you care for me." Castiel looks back at her, his expression softer. "Thank you."

"Yeah, whatever, dude." She rolls her eyes in her best Dean impression and Castiel rolls his eyes back at her with a small smile. "It's ironic, though, isn't it? You gained humanity just as I lost it."

"Fate seems to have a penchant for irony," Castiel agrees morosely and she nudges his shoulder again.

"Hey, don't get mopey on me now. It's not so bad being human."

He makes a face at her. "And what's so preferable about humanity that being an angel pales in comparison?"

"Well, the food, for one." Ariel grins when Castiel gives her a long-suffering look. "Come on, don't tell me those cookies I fed you weren't awesome. Not to mention the emotions. You feel things more strongly now, don't you?" He nods contemplatively. "And the company's an improvement, too." She jabs her thumb back at the house to refer to Bobby and the Winchesters. "Honestly, if I wasn't convinced we needed my Grace on our side, I would have stayed human, I think."

Castiel tilts his head to study her, frowning. "I don't think I would have minded that. As a human, you were much less..."

"Annoying?" she offers and he smirks slightly.

"No, that hasn't altered in the slightest." She mock-gasps and smacks his shoulder. He chuckles as he attempts to dodge the blow and fails miserably. "You were much less...switchy as a human."

"Switchy?" she echoes, bewildered.

"Between formal and casual. You sound a lot like Gabriel-" Castiel breaks off when pain flashes across Ariel's face, but she quickly suppresses the flare of grief and nods.

"Yeah, okay, I'll...I'll work on the switching. Sorry, Cas."

"Much appreciated, sister." Castiel nudges her shoulder with his own. "Now will you please make me some hot chocolate?" She knows he's just asking to take her mind off Gabriel, and she appreciates the change of topic.

"Ugh, I'm spoiling you," she teases lightly as she gets to her feet, taking his hand to help him up.

"Yes, you are," he agrees as he follows her inside, smiling faintly.

* * *

Giving Castiel a gun can only lead to disaster, and he's the most vocal with his complaints out of all of them.

"What am I even supposed to do with this?" he demands, waving it around, and Ariel's relieved the safety is on.

"Point it and shoot," Bobby answers simply.

"And Dad help you, don't miss," Ariel adds cheerfully, earning a small grin from Bobby.

"What I used to be-" Castiel begins wearily.

"Are you really gonna bitch? To _me_?" Bobby rolls his eyes. "Quit pining for the varsity years and load the damn truck." Chastised, Castiel obeys. He, Bobby, and Sam will be going after the new shipments of Niveus vaccines, which contain strains of the Croatoan virus, according to Crowley. Dean, Crowley, and Ariel will be going after Death in Chicago._  
_

"All right, well, good luck stopping the whole zombie apocalypse," Dean tells Sam awkwardly.

"Good luck killing Death," Sam deadpans in return and when Dean makes a face, he adds, "Remember when we used to just...hunt wendigos? How simple things were?"

"Not really." Dean grins wryly.

"Well, um...you might need this." Sam holds out the demon-killing knife.

"No need." Crowley suddenly appears between them, holding out a wickedly-curved scythe. "Death's own. Kills demons and angels and reapers and, rumor has it, the very thing itself."

"How the hell did you land that?" Ariel asks curiously, peering at it.

"Hello...king of the crossroads." He rolls his eyes at her. "So, shall we?" He glances at Bobby. "You gonna just sit there?"

Bobby scowls. "No, I'm gonna riverdance." Ariel has to bite back a snort of amusement.

"I suppose if you want to impress the ladies." Crowley sighs dramatically. "Bobby, Bobby, Bobby. Really wasted that crossroads deal. Fact: you get more if you phrase it properly. So I took the liberty of adding a teeny little sub-A clause on your behalf." Bobby's eyes widen in realization. "What can I say? I'm an altruist. Just gonna sit there?"

Slowly, Bobby gets to his feet and, to everyone's shock, remains standing. A stunned smile spreads across his face. "Son of a bitch."

"Yes, I know. Completely worth your soul. I'm a hell of a guy." Crowley smirks.

"Thanks." Bobby's still staring at his own legs in bewilderment.

"This is getting maudlin. Can we go?" Crowley sighs exasperatedly, heading for the Impala. Dean rolls his eyes and claps Sam on the shoulder before following behind him.

"Be careful," Ariel says and makes sure to give everyone a hug. Sam squeezes her tightly, Bobby pats her on the back, and Castiel awkwardly places his arms around her in return. Finally, she follows Dean and Crowley to the Impala, climbing into the backseat in time to hear the tail end of Dean's sentence.

"I don't know what you're playing at with Bobby, but-"

"All I'm doing is playing my cards right. I want to not be dead, and you won't kill me if I play nice." Crowley spreads his hands in a "what-can-you-do" gesture. "That's all."

"Don't think we won't be keeping an eye on you all the same," Ariel pipes up, crossing her arms as Crowley turns to look back at her, rolling his eyes.

"Wouldn't expect anything less, love." She scowls; she would have healed Bobby herself, but any large usage of her powers would send a flare straight up to Heaven. Similarly, just transporting Dean and Crowley to Chicago would trigger Heaven's alerts, since Dean and Sam are still on their watchlist.

Still, there's nothing Ariel can do now except put up with Crowley, so she settles back against the seat for a long drive to Chicago.

* * *

The trip mainly consists of Ariel childishly throwing bits of old straw wrappers at Crowley, Crowley making indignant noises when he keeps finding specks of white paper all over his black suit, and Dean threatening to "turn this car around if you two don't quit acting like freaking babies, damn it. You two are thousands of years old, start acting like it!"

So this is what an archangel of the Lord has come down to.

"Hey, let's stop for pizza," Crowley suggests cheerfully when they reach the Chicago border.

"Seriously?" Dean complains.

"I'm down for pizza," Ariel agrees tentatively, raising her hand.

"Ariel!" Dean groans.

"What? Chicago pizza's good!" Her eyes widen innocently.

"Kid's got good taste," Crowley says with a grin before pointing straight. "Up ahead. Big, ugly building. Ground zero. Horseman's stable, if you will. He's in there."

Ariel frowns; she would be feeling a big decrease in her powers if Death was nearby. She snaps her fingers and a lollipop appears in her hand. She raises an eyebrow and lets it vanish again. "No, he's not."

Crowley scowls at her. "Excuse you. Of course he is, the place is crawling with reapers."

Ariel looks out the window, seeing black-suited men with somber expressions everywhere. "Well, yeah, but Death isn't here. I'd be pretty much human if he was."

Crowley huffs and disappears. Dean gives Ariel a bewildered look, but Crowley's back within the next second. "Boy, is my face red. The kid's right. He's not in there."

"You want to cut the cute and get to the part where you tell me where he is?" Dean said, irritated.

"Sorry. I don't know." Crowley grimaces. "I'm just as shocked as you, honestly."

"You don't _know_?!" Dean's eyes narrow. "Bobby sold his soul for this!"

"Relax. All deals are soul back or store credit. We'll catch Death in the next doomed city."

"But millions of people here will die," Ariel protests.

"True. So I strongly suggest we get out of here," Crowley answers nonchalantly even as Dean starts the car, looking disgruntled.

"We're not leaving this city to die," he protests and glances back at Ariel. "Can't you zap everyone somewhere else?"

"Don't you think I would if I could?" Ariel sighs. "But any big use of my powers now is like a neon flare to Heaven, and we can't risk that, not when we're so close to stopping the Apocalypse."

"So what do we do, call a bomb threat? A thousand bomb threats? How the hell are we supposed to get three million people out of Chicago within the next ten minutes and-?" Dean breaks off when Crowley disappears again. "Oh, for fuck's sake."

"Wait, Dean, stop the car," Ariel says suddenly. For a moment, she feels human again, if only for a brief second. Dean obediently stops the car, looking confused, and Ariel glances around, bewildered, and sees Crowley across the street at a pizzeria. "You've got to be kidding me."

Dean follows her gaze to see Crowley mouthing something. "I can't hear you!" he calls back.

"I said Death's in there," Crowley says, abruptly in the passenger seat again. Dean starts.

"He's right," Ariel agrees, sitting up and staring at the pizzeria. "Wow, Death's got pretty good taste."

"You coming or-?" Dean breaks off when he realizes Crowley's gone again. "Not." He glances at Ariel, who shrugs and gets out of the car, borrowed angel blade in hand. If anything, she could at least stop any demons Death might send their way. Clutching Death's scythe, Dean follows her across the street to the pizzeria and ducks into the alley behind it.

Ariel points at the door. "Can't we use the front?"

Dean rolls his eyes. "Sure, if you wanna get killed on sight." Ariel flushes, embarrassed, and follows him around to the back door that leads into the kitchen. There are dead kitchen workers everywhere and Ariel steps carefully over the bodies, her eyebrows knitted together in sorrow when she remembers that the diner Famine had resided in had been the same way. She follows Dean as he pushes the door to the main dining area open, revealing several dead patrons slumped over their tables.

Only one man is sitting upright, calmly cutting a piece of pizza and popping it into his mouth. He's dressed all in black, and has slicked-back dark hair. From what Ariel can see of his face, he has a hooked nose and dark obsidian eyes.

_Jeez, he could be Snape from_ Harry Potter_, _Ariel thinks wryly, but then Dean hisses in pain and drops the scythe. It seems to be glowing red-hot and Ariel winces in sympathy when she sees the raw burn on Dean's hand. It doesn't look too bad, but the scythe disappears as soon as it hits the floor, reappearing beside the man on the table.

"Thanks for returning that," Death says calmly, "Join me, Dean. The pizza's delicious." Dean edges towards the table nervously while Ariel strolls over to the table, a little emboldened by the non-hostile greeting. After all, she knows this Horseman much better than the others.

"Hello, Death. It's been a long time."

"It has." Death looks up at her, raising an eyebrow. "Egypt, wasn't it?"

"Yep." Ariel grimaces at the memory. Killing the first-born children of every household without a doorway painted in lamb's blood had not been a thrill.

"I must say that I didn't expect you here, Ariel."

She shrugs. "What can I say? I'm full of surprises."

"Yes, clearly. Feel free to join us, too, if you wish." Death glances back at Dean, who's hovering nervously and glancing between the Horseman and archangel in confusion. "Sit down. Took you long enough to find me. I've been wanting to talk to you."

Dean promptly sits down, his eyes wide. "I gotta say, I have mixed feelings about that. So...so is this the part where you kill me?"

"Oh, relax, you know I won't let him," Ariel reassures the human as she takes a seat between Death and Dean and puts a slice of deep-dish pizza on the empty plate in front of her.

"What's more, you have an inflated sense of your importance," Death adds, rolling his eyes, "To a thing like me, a thing like you, well...think how you'd feel if a bacterium sat at your table and started to get snarky. This is one little planet in one tiny solar system in a galaxy that's barely out of its diapers. I'm old, Dean. Very old. To me, even this little one, powerful as she may be, is hardly a speck on my radar." He nods to Ariel. "No offense, dear."

"None taken." Ariel grins back cheerfully; she'd forgotten how sarcastic Death could be.

"So I invite you to contemplate how insignificant I find you," the Horseman tells Dean, popping another piece of pizza in his mouth. "Eat," he orders when Dean doesn't make a move to eat any pizza. Dean reluctantly picks up a slice after looking at Ariel skeptically and takes a bite. "Good, isn't it?"

Ariel bites into her own slice of pizza, enjoying the taste of cheese and tomato sauce on her tongue. "Yeah, very."

"Well, I gotta ask. How old _are_ you?" Dean asks, frowning.

"As old as God. Maybe older. Neither of us can remember anymore. Life, death, chicken, egg." Death shrugs. "Regardless, in the end, I'll reap Him, too."

"God? You'll reap God?" Dean's eyebrows shoot up.

"Of course he will. Dad's not immortal," Ariel points out.

"Well, this is way above my pay grade," Dean mutters.

"Just a bit," Death agrees dryly.

"I have to ask, do you know where He is?" Ariel asks and Death gives her a wry smile.

"Now if I did, do you really think He'd want me to tell you?"

"I guess not." Ariel grimaces, dropping her gaze back to her plate, and Dean squeezes her shoulder lightly.

"So why am I still breathing around you?" he asks, turning back to Death, "What do you want?"

"The leash around my neck off." The answer takes both Dean and Ariel by surprise. "Lucifer has me bound to him. Some unseemly little spell. He has me where he wants, when he wants. That's why I couldn't go to you. I had to wait for you to catch up."

"Is that why you raised the dead in Sioux Falls?" Ariel asks and Death nods.

"He made me his weapon. Hurricanes, floods, raising the dead. I'm more powerful than you can process, and I'm enslaved to a bratty child with a temper tantrum."

Ariel wrinkles her nose; she supposes that's one way to describe Lucifer. "You think we can unbind you?"

"Of course you can't. But you can help me take the bullets out of Lucifer's gun." Ariel shrugs. "I understand you want this." Death holds up a silver ring.

"Yeah," Dean agrees, raising an eyebrow.

"I'm inclined to give it to you," Death continues calmly.

"To give it to us?" Dean echoes, bewildered.

"That's what I said." Death rolls his eyes.

"But what about-?"

"Chicago?" Death glances at the torrential rain now pouring outside. "I suppose it can stay. I like the pizza." Just like that, the storm outside clears up and the sun shines brightly outside. People look around, bewildered, as they put their umbrellas away.

"Rock on." Ariel holds her fist up briefly, and Dean looks relieved.

"There _are_ conditions," Death adds quickly, stemming their enthusiasm.

"Okay. Like?" Dean frowns.

"You have to do whatever it takes to put Lucifer in his cell." When Dean doesn't look enlightened, Death repeats, "_Whatever_ it takes." And then Ariel gets it.

"That's the plan," Dean points out.

"No. No plan. Not yet."

"He wants Sam to jump," Ariel says quietly and Dean turns sharply to look at her.

"What? So he thinks-?"

"I know," Death interrupts, "So I need a promise. You're going to let your brother jump right into that fiery pit. Well, do I have your word?"

Dean's jaw clenches as he thinks, and Ariel's sure he'll say "no" and walk out. Ariel would be right behind him, of course, because there's no way they'll let Sam- "Okay, yeah. Yes."

..._what_?

"Dean-" Ariel hisses and he shakes his head at her.

"That had better be 'yes,' Dean. You know you can't cheat death." Death slides over his ring and Dean picks it up. "Now, would you like the instruction manual?"

* * *

Ten minutes later, Dean and Ariel are leaving the pizzeria through the front door. Apparently, all they have to do is place the rings near each other - causing the rings to automatically fuse together - and say a certain incantation to open the Cage.

"I still can't believe you agreed," Ariel mutters.

"Air, Sam's been pushing for this, and you know that." Dean doesn't look any happier about it than she feels. "And...I dunno. It's about time I put some faith in him, right?"

"True," Ariel agrees with a sigh. "I just wish it didn't have to mean he'd have to jump."

"Yeah, neither do I." Dean grimaces as they reach the Impala and climb in, Ariel sliding into the passenger seat. Crowley's nowhere to be seen, much to Ariel's relief. She doesn't think she can stand his snark at the moment.

It's a quiet drive back to Sioux Falls, and the only noise comes from Dean flipping on the radio to blare Led Zeppelin. Ariel winces at the volume, but says nothing; Dean needs the musical therapy more at the moment. After all, he's just agreed to sacrifice his brother.

When they finally reach the salvage yard, Dean disappears into the garage, ring in hand and a pensive expression on his face, while Ariel ventures into the house.

"Hey." Sam smiles as he hugs her tightly as soon as she enters the living room. "How'd it go with Death?"

"Good, he gave us the ring, no trouble. Crowley ran away before the big meeting with Death, but that's probably better for us." She smiles back faintly, figuring Dean would want to tell Sam the details himself.

"That's great." Sam grins. "Glad to know something's going easy for us these days, right?"

"Yeah, definitely." He ruffles her hair. "So what happened with the shipments?"

"Several demons were already there and set many Croatoans after us," Castiel says from the couch as she goes to join him, giving him a brief hug in greeting. "We killed all the infected and freed the warehouse employees."

"All of them?" Sam nods. "That's good." Ariel smiles, relieved. "And all three of you are okay?"

"Better than that," Sam chuckles, nodding to the stairs. "Bobby's been testing out his new legs." Ariel sees the older hunter coming down again, grinning widely, and waves at him.

"Hey, Bobby. How're your legs?"

He rolls his eyes at her. "Don't laugh." She smirks, anyway. "Dean out back?" She nods and Bobby heads out the back door, probably to find Dean and ask him what happened.

Sam collapses onto Ariel's other side, throwing his arm around Ariel's shoulders with a tired smile. "Looks like things are finally coming together." Ariel smiles back at him before letting it fade slightly when she recalls what exactly he has to do. Sam may be on board with it, but she sure isn't.

She buries her face into Sam's side as a startled Sam wraps his arms around her. He shoots a bewildered look over her head at Castiel, who merely shrugs back at him in confusion.

* * *

**I really have no excuse other than pure laziness, writer's block, and other things distracting me.**

**I mean, I've been on summer break for a week now, and literally, all I can think about is watching _Monty Python and the Holy Grail_ (NI!) and getting stuff ready for my birthday tomorrow. Oh, and spazzing over final grades coming in. ****Whoops. :/**

**I'm really glad you guys are taking an active interest in Ariel's fate, though, especially regarding what'll happen when she returns to Heaven. I won't give away anything, but I'm definitely keeping all of your ideas in mind while writing. ****That being said, for those who don't know already, I do plan to write a Season 6 sequel, but won't go on to further seasons (AKA I'm making season 6 an AU near the end so that I can spin it into a conclusion for the show).**

**...I think that's all I have to say, but I feel like I'm forgetting something. Oh, well. Review, please! :)**


	34. Chapter 34

******Chapter 34**

* * *

_**Then:**_

_"Hey, Bobby. How're your legs?"_

_He rolls his eyes at her. "Don't laugh." She smirks, anyway. "Dean out back?" She nods and Bobby heads out the back door, probably to find Dean and ask him what happened._

_Sam collapses onto Ariel's other side, throwing his arm around Ariel's shoulders with a tired smile. "Looks like things are finally coming together." Ariel smiles back at him before letting it fade slightly when she recalls what exactly he has to do. Sam may be on board with it, but she sure isn't._

_She buries her face into Sam's side as a startled Sam wraps his arms around her. He shoots a bewildered look over her head at Castiel, who merely shrugs back at him in confusion._

**_Now:_**

"So we're really doing this, then. We're putting Lucifer back in the Cage." Sam reclines on the hood of the Impala with Ariel perched beside him carefully. She and Dean had finally caved and told Sam what exactly they had agreed to with Death.

"Looks like. Not that I like this idea any more than I did before."

Sam ruffles her hair affectionately even as he sips his beer, smiling faintly. "It'll be okay, Air." Ariel wishes she didn't have to think about how it might be one of the last few times he'd ever call her that again.

"I guess." She leans against his side and he wraps an arm loosely around her shoulders. They sit contentedly in silence for a long time, Sam drinking his beer while Ariel silently soaks in the warmth of the tall human beside her, before Dean comes out to join them. Ariel slips off the car, knowing Dean would want to talk to his brother alone, and reenters the house to find Castiel.

She finds him in the kitchen, absently eating a bowl of cereal.

"Lucky Charms?" she deadpans, peering at the colorful box beside his bowl.

"The marshmallows taste good," Castiel grumbles, defiantly shoving a spoonful into his mouth.

"I can't deny that." She squeezes his shoulder. "I guess we're in the final stretch now."

"Yes. We'll find some demons later today and collect their blood." Ariel grimaces at the thought as Castiel continues to eat his cereal as if he hasn't just spoken about mass murder and blood-draining.

She hates the idea that Sam has to drink even more demon blood, especially after he had cleaned up from Famine's influence so well, but it seems the only way to stand Lucifer's possession now.

"What about you?" Ariel is jolted from her thoughts by the sudden question.

"Me?" She frowns, confused.

"Seeing Lucifer for the first time since your memories returned. Are you ready?" Castiel watches her calmly, his eyebrows furrowed, and she sighs.

"Honestly? I don't know _how_ to react when I see him again. It'll be kind of awkward," she admits.

Castiel gives an uncharacteristic snort. "Understatement."

"Shut it." She tugs one of his unruly dark locks affectionately. "And don't mouth off to him or Michael, I don't want you getting blown up to the point where even I can't put you back together."

Castiel winces both at the hair-tug and her words even as he leans into the touch of her hand. "I shall restrain myself," he promises with a small chuckle.

* * *

With Ariel's powers back, it isn't hard for her and Bobby to track down two demons in an abandoned warehouse just outside of Sioux Falls. Ariel's Grace is like a supernatural neon sign, so she distracts them by cloaking herself and watching them search fruitlessly for her before leading them into a devil's trap the Winchesters have laid out on the floor. With one snap of her fingers, they're both strung up and ready to be drained.

Sam and Castiel drain the demons' bodies of blood while Ariel waits outside with Dean and Bobby, nauseated by the thought of collecting large amounts of demon blood.

"You know, I still can't get used to you at eye level," Dean says to Bobby.

"So was I right?" Bobby demands, not amused.

"As always, Yoda," Ariel teases, "Two stunt demons inside, just like you said. It wasn't hard to get them tied up." As if on cue, Sam and Castiel return to load the trunk of the Impala full of blood-filled plastic gallon jugs. Dean goes over to check their progress.

"You got it?" Bobby asks when Dean returns.

"Yep. All the 'go juice' Sammy can drink." Dean doesn't look happy at the thought, and Ariel nudges his foot lightly with her own.

"You okay?"

He nods tensely even as he asks Bobby, "Any omens?"

"Not many." Bobby hands over a newspaper. "Cyclone in Florida, temperature drop in Detroit, wildfires in L.A." He glances over at Ariel's pensive expression. "Those mean anything to you, kid?"

"Fires aren't Lucifer's style, despite popular belief," she admits quietly, "The cyclone, maybe, but I'm leaning towards Detroit."

"That's the one," Dean agrees firmly, "Devil's in Detroit."

"Really? As far as foreboding goes, it's a little light in the loafers. You sure?" Bobby raises an eyebrow.

Ariel nods. "We're sure." As Bobby returns to load up his truck, she glances at Dean with a wry smile. "2014?"

He nods, his lips pursed. "He was right. We'd always end up here."

She squeezes his shoulder gently. "It's not going to end with Sam saying 'yes,' Dean." He doesn't look convinced.

* * *

Ariel rides in the Impala with Castiel in the backseat and the Winchesters up front, with Bobby following behind them in his truck. Detroit is a long drive, and Castiel soon falls asleep against the window, causing Ariel to smile faintly when she notices.

"Aww, ain't he a little angel?" Dean snarks from the driver's seat, glancing up at Castiel in the rearview mirror.

Sam says quietly, "Angels don't sleep." It's clear now more than ever how human Castiel is. Ariel gently maneuvers Castiel down so that his head is in her lap, stroking his hair gently as she relaxes against the leather seat of the car, settling in for a long night's drive.

"I got a bad feeling about this," Dean says quietly at last, breaking the silence in the car.

"You'd be nuts to have a good feeling about it," Sam deadpans.

"You know what I mean. Detroit. He always said he'd jump your bones in Detroit. Here we are," Dean points out and Sam nods dully.

"Here we are."

"Maybe this is him rolling out the red carpet, you know? Maybe he knows something that we don't." Dean glances up at Ariel through the rearview mirror, as if asking for confirmation.

"He's an archangel," she admits, "Fallen or not, he'll know a lot we don't."

"We've just got to hope he doesn't know about the rings," Sam adds before his expression falters. "Hey, um... on the subject, there's something I got to talk to you about."

"What?" Dean asks. Sensing the privacy of the subject, Ariel tries to tune them out, glancing down at her sleeping brother and carding her fingers through his hair.

"This thing goes our way and I...Triple Lindy into that box...you know I'm not coming back," Sam says carefully and when Dean doesn't react, he plunges ahead, "So you've got to promise not to try to bring me back."

Ariel had assumed he would try to get them to promise something like that, but her throat still constricts when he voices it.

"What? No, I didn't sign up for that," Dean protests instantly. "Your Hell is gonna make my tour look like Graceland. You want me just to sit by and do nothing?"

"Once the Cage is shut, you can't go poking at it, Dean. It's too risky." Sam glances around at Ariel, silently asking for backup, and she shakes her head. It's not as if she agreed to this, either.

"As if I'm just gonna let you rot in there," Dean scoffs.

"Yeah, you are. You don't have a choice." Sam's expression crumples as he sighs, clearly disappointed by Dean's stubbornness.

"So then what am I supposed to do?" Dean croaks at last. Ariel pretends not to hear the tremble in his voice.

"You go find Lisa. You pray she's dumb enough to take you in, and you...have barbecues and go to football games. You go live some normal, apple-pie life, Dean. Promise me." Dean remains silent and Sam glances back at Ariel. "You'll keep an eye on everyone, right?"

"Sure I will." Ariel cracks a small smile. Sam hadn't made her promise to not pull him out of the Cage, which leaves her with a loophole she can exploit later. Dean glances up at her in the rearview mirror, his eyes shining suspiciously with tears, and she nods slightly back at him.

She's not going to leave one of her best friends to suffer.

* * *

It takes them a long time to get to Detroit, and the rest of the car ride is tense and silent in preparation. Sam is essentially going to jump-start the Apocalypse, and they're reaching the final countdown. Castiel wakes only minutes before they arrive and pretends that he was never asleep in his sister's lap to save his own dignity.

Ariel decides to keep teasing him, anyway.

When they reach Detroit at the same time as Bobby, they convene in an alley where the temperature drops the lowest. Bobby checks the building across the street through binoculars while Ariel just stares at the building, doing the same without the need for binoculars.

"At least two dozen demons scattered all over the place," she confirms at last.

"You were right," Bobby admits grudgingly as he lowers his binoculars, "Something's up."

"More than something," Dean says grimly as he goes to unlock the trunk of the Impala to get the jugs of demon blood, "He's here. I know it."

That seems to be the cue for Sam to close the gap between himself and Bobby and hug the older hunter tightly. Bobby pats his back lightly with a quiet, "I'll see you around, kid."

"See you around," Sam echoes quietly and pulls away.

"When he gets in...you fight him tooth and nail, you understand? Keep swingin'. Don't give an inch."

"Yes, sir." Sam nods before holding his hand out to Castiel next. "Take care of these guys, okay?"

"That's impossible," Castiel answers frankly and Ariel bites back a snort of amusement.

Sam looks wearily amused, too. "Humor me."

Castiel frowns, bewildered, before it clicks. "Oh, I was supposed to lie. Uhh, sure. They'll be fine."

"You know what? Just stop talking," Sam sighs, still smiling tiredly as he shakes Castiel's hand before scooping Ariel up into a tight hug. She doesn't hesitate to clutch him as best as she can, burying her face into his shoulder. "Thanks for everything, Air," he says quietly against her hair.

"Yeah, no problem." Her voice trembles slightly and she tries not to think about the thick ache in the back of her throat as she kisses the side of his head affectionately. "Be careful."

"I will." He kisses the top of her head as he sets her down and she finds herself wishing he'd held onto her for just a little longer. Sam walks to the open trunk of the Impala before looking up at all of them, his expression bleak. "You guys mind not watching this?" Everyone obediently averts their eyes as Sam picks up the first jug of demon blood to start chugging it.

It's not more than a few minutes before Sam shuts the car trunk and everyone finds it safe to look again. Sam wipes his mouth with his sleeve, taking a deep breath and glancing at Dean before setting off towards the building. Dean follows him instantly. Ariel lingers back with Castiel and Bobby; this is something the brothers should do alone, and she doesn't think she can face Lucifer just yet. She watches anxiously as the brothers are ushered into the building by some demons.

The wait outside is tense, Castiel's hand tight on Ariel's shoulder while Bobby paces nervously beside them. Ariel settles for watching the window, waiting for some sign that Sam has either succeeded or lost. The window flares with light suddenly and Ariel shuts her eyes more because of its connotation than because the light pains her.

"Ariel?" Castiel asks warily and she opens her eyes at last, looking up at her brother mournfully.

"Lucifer has his vessel."

Silence falls again, and Bobby mutters quietly at last, "Balls."

* * *

Dean joins them outside soon, conspiciously sans Sam and with tear-filled eyes that he swipes dry on his sleeve.

"Sam lost," he croaks bleakly when Bobby, Ariel, and Castiel meet him halfway. "Lucifer knew about the rings, but Sam said yes, anyway. Lucifer won out. He said Sam was long gone."

Ariel's not sure whether to feel crushing disappointment or to hold out on her hope that maybe Sam can still fight back. After all, a vessel's soul isn't gone unless the archangel cuts it loose, and she knows Lucifer well enough to know that he wouldn't cut Sam loose at all. "We'll see," she says grimly instead.

There seems to be a static charge in the air, something vitally shifted now as they walk down the street aimlessly, trying to catch any news possible. Dean finds a store window filled with television screens, which are showing broadcasts of what's happening around the world.

_"Reports are flooding in - a 7.6 earthquake in Portland, 8.1 in Boston, more in Hong Kong, Berlin, and Tehran. The U.S.G.S. has no explanation, but says to expect a six-figure death toll."_

"It's starting," Castiel notes, glancing at Ariel, who nods in agreement.

"You think?" Dean snaps back.

"No need to be mean," Castiel answers, balking.

"So what do we do now?" Dean demands.

"I suggest we imbibe copious amounts of alcohol and wait for the inevitable blast wave," Castiel says blankly.

"Wait, you're kidding me, right?" Ariel turns on Castiel, bewildered. "We're not doing anything to stop it?"

"You know just as well as I do that we don't. Lucifer will meet Michael on the chosen field, and the battle of Armageddon will begin," Castiel says, frowning.

"Okay, well, where's this chosen field?" Dean interrupts them.

"I don't know." Castiel shakes his head.

When Dean looks at Ariel, she shrugs. "I wasn't trusted with the details."

"I'm sorry, Dean. This is over," Castiel adds and Ariel can hear the dejection in his voice, even though Dean is only incensed by it.

"You listen to me, you junkless sissy, we are _not_ giving up! Bobby?" He turns to the older hunter, who looks chagrined.

"There was never much hope to begin with. I don't know what to do."

Dean looks as if he's been slapped as he turns to Ariel desperately. "Air," he pleads weakly, his voice cracking slightly.

She bites her lip, not wanting to give up, but at the same time...wait a second. "Chuck," she says abruptly.

Dean blinks, bewildered. "Uhh, no, I'm pretty sure you're Ariel."

"No, I mean Chuck's a prophet. He would have seen where the battlefield is," she elaborates excitedly.

Without hesitating, Dean yanks out his phone and dials Chuck's number, already wheeling around to head for the Impala as Ariel, Castiel, and Bobby follow him. He pauses as Chuck picks up before awkwardly saying, "Um...no, Chuck. Who's Mistress Magda?" Ariel snorts. "Yeah, I'll bet. Real close. Whatever happened to Becky?" He pauses, waiting for a response. "Boy, you really got a whole virgin-hooker thing going on, don't you?" He shakes his head and continues, "Sam said yes. Did you see where the title fight goes down?" He frowns. "Stull Cemetery...wait, that's an old boneyard just outside of Lawrence, isn't it?" He glances at Ariel, who nods in confirmation.

"It all has to end where it started, I guess," she adds.

"All right, Chuck. You know of any way to short-circuit this thing?" Dean asks and sighs heavily at Chuck's answer. "Well, do you have any idea what's gonna happen next?" Whatever Chuck says isn't reassuring. "All right. Thanks, Chuck." He hangs up, closing the distance between himself and the Impala.

"You going someplace? You're going to do something stupid. You've got that look," Bobby points out.

"He always has that look, to be fair," Ariel says wryly.

"I'm gonna go talk to Sam," Dean adds.

"You just don't give up," Bobby sighs.

"It's Sam!" Dean retorts.

"If you couldn't reach him here, you're certainly not gonna be able to on the battlefield," Castiel answers.

"Well, if we've already lost, I guess I got nothing to lose, right?" Dean's expression is set.

"I just want you to understand," Castiel insists, "The only thing that you're gonna see out there is Michael killing your brother."

Ariel's stomach twists at the thought of not just Lucifer, but Sam being killed. Dean's expression doesn't change. "Then I ain't gonna let him die alone." He climbs into the Impala and starts the engine. Within seconds, he's pulled out of the alley and disappeared.

Bobby sighs and heads for his truck. When he sees Ariel and Castiel raising their eyebrows at him, he says grudgingly, "What? It ain't like I'm gonna let the idjit run headfirst into that battle without backup." Grinning, Ariel goes ahead and climbs into the truck as well, Castiel joining them without hesitation only moments later.

Within minutes, they're on the highway to Lawrence, Kansas, the Impala's tail lights shining brightly on the road just ahead of them.

* * *

**...I really have no excuse other than terrible writer's block and a summer class. Every time I opened this document, the cursor would just blink mockingly until I shut it down again. I couldn't write _at all_ and I don't know why.**

**It will take a while for me to upload the next (and hopefully final) chapter, because I do plan to write the first chapter of the next story and upload them simultaneously so that you guys don't have to wait and keep watching for whenever I post the sequel. Hopefully, it won't take as long as this time.**

**So enjoy this chapter, despite its shortness, and I'm really sorry for the wait. But I refuse to respond to people asking me when I plan to update, as I've said countless times before. I appreciate how invested you are in the story, but asking me to update is pressuring and I really don't like it. Thanks for being patient.**


	35. Chapter 35

**Chapter 35**

* * *

_**Then:**_

_"I just want you to understand," Castiel insists, "The only thing that you're gonna see out there is Michael killing your brother."_

_Ariel's stomach twists at the thought of not just Lucifer, but Sam being killed. Dean's expression doesn't change. "Then I ain't gonna let him die alone." He climbs into the Impala and starts the engine. Within seconds, he's pulled out of the alley and disappeared._

_Bobby sighs and heads for his truck. When he sees Ariel and Castiel raising their eyebrows at him, he says grudgingly, "What? It ain't like I'm gonna let the idjit run headfirst into that battle without backup." Grinning, Ariel goes ahead and climbs into the truck as well, Castiel joining them without hesitation only moments later._

_Within minutes, they're on the highway to Lawrence, Kansas, the Impala's tail lights shining brightly on the road just ahead of them._

**_Now:_**

"You've got to be friggin' kidding me," Bobby says loudly, banging the steering wheel in frustration.

"What is it?" Castiel asks, frowning in confusion as he peers at the road ahead, which is congested with cars as far as the eye can see.

"Traffic jam," Bobby grumbles. The Impala is nowhere to be found, Dean having taken the shoulder of the highway and disappeared long ago. Bobby's truck is too wide to fit in the shoulder, though, so they're stuck where they are. "Must be some kind of accident or road work up ahead."

"Well, you know what we do now, right?" Ariel asks wryly.

"What?" Bobby glances up at her in the rearview mirror.

"Get the bread." Both Bobby and Castiel turn around to stare at her blankly. "You know, 'cause...traffic _jam_. Jam. Toast." She flushes. "Never mind."

"Your brothers are about to tear each other apart, and you're sitting here making bad puns?" Bobby says incredulously.

Ariel huffs. "Excuse you, that was comedy gold." Honestly, it's frustrating her to no end that she isn't at the battlefield, and for all she knows, Michael and Lucifer are already there. So she takes out her frustration in the only way she knows how: by cracking jokes to ease the others' tension.

"Figures, she _is_ Gabriel's twin," Bobby mutters to Castiel, who nods in agreement. Along with mild irritation, the comment brings a pang of grief, and Ariel bites her lip to keep from letting it show on her face.

It's then that the prayer comes in.

_Air, it's started and neither of them will listen to me. I need you, Bobby, and Cas to get here_ now.

Ariel sits upright abruptly, and Castiel's attention turns on her immediately.

"Ariel?"

"Dean's calling for us. I can get us there, but it's gonna take a lot of power to make sure no one notices a truck disappearing," she answers, grimacing in concentration before snapping her fingers. Within seconds, they're no longer sandwiched between cars, but just a few yards away from the Impala in an abandoned cemetery.

Before Bobby even turns off the engine, Ariel's already yanking the truck door open and running across the field to where she sees Sam - no, _Lucifer_ - and Michael in Adam's body standing across each other, Dean standing a few feet away from them.

"Michael! Lucifer!" She stumbles to a halt between them, the dead grass beneath her feet crunching, and Michael quirks an eyebrow calmly.

"What are you doing here, Ariel?"

"Trying to get you two idiots to see common sense!" She glances between them, noticing that Lucifer looks just about as unimpressed as Michael. "You both can't seriously want this."

"This fight's been coming for over a thousand years now, Ariel," Lucifer answers, his hands shoved in his pockets. "It's too late to stop it."

"No, it's _not_, you stubborn dicks!" Michael looks mildly taken aback by her language. "You guys can, I don't know, hug it out or something!" Dean actually snorts and Ariel turns a mild glare on him. "Really, Dean? I'm trying to argue our point here."

"Sorry," he mumbles, holding his hands up in surrender, "Go ahead."

"I've been very patient with you, little sister," Michael says coldly as he starts forward, automatically causing Ariel to flinch back. "I have ignored your continuing disobedience since you returned to this dimension, I spared Adam's soul to Heaven's keeping for your sake, and I have allowed you to _live_, and you respond by interfering with our Father's plan."

"What if it wasn't Dad's plan, though?" Ariel knows he can't possibly understand that. He's always lived by God's plan, and now to find out that he'd been wrong is probably too much for him to handle. But she can't let her brothers tear each other apart, especially not when they're wearing Sam and Adam.

"You've interfered enough, Ariel." Michael scowls as he raises a hand to snap his fingers, and she shuts her eyes tightly, expecting blackness anytime now.

"Hey! Assbutt!" The bizarre insult causes her eyes to snap open just as a glass bottle containing a tiny spark of fire smashes against Michael's chest and he goes up in flames with a scream of rage and pain.

"Assbutt?" Dean echoes incredulously and Ariel spins around to see Castiel and Bobby behind her. Castiel's arm is lowering back to his side; he'd been the one to throw the Molotov cocktail.

"He'll be back, and angry. But you got your five minutes," Castiel responds, his eyes turning from Dean to Ariel. She knows he hadn't done it for Dean, but to save her life.

"Castiel." Lucifer's furious tone causes everyone to turn their attention back to him. "Did you just Molotov my brother with holy fire?"

"Uhh." Castiel blinks. "No." Ariel has to bite back a sigh; great, he's picked up on Winchester logic.

"No one dicks with Michael but me." Before Ariel can scream for Lucifer to stop, he clicks his fingers, and then dark red blood spatters across the yellowed grass at Ariel's feet. Castiel is gone when she looks up from the grass, destroyed completely in a shower of blood and guts, and all Ariel can think over and over is, _You stupid idiot, I _told_ you not to piss them off, I _told_ you._ She's not sure if she's shaking from fear, anger, or grief as she stares at Lucifer, who raises an eyebrow back at her. "Don't tell me you didn't see that coming."

"What, Gabriel wasn't enough?" she spits back at him, her voice trembling. "Haven't we lost enough family?" It's all she can do to keep from screaming, and Dean's visibly torn between staying where he is in front of Lucifer and going to her side.

"You brought that on yourself, little sister. You just had to keep standing in my way."

"What, because I don't want you or Michael dead?" Ariel can't help a bitter laugh. "Yeah. Shame on me for giving a damn about my big brothers."

"We're done here." Lucifer snaps his fingers again, and she expects to burst into a million pieces in agonizing pain, but she's just cold and numb. When she opens her eyes, she's in a very familiar place that she most definitely does not want to be.

"_No_!" she screams, slamming into the doors of Heaven's infirmary even as several angels swarm forward to restrain her, cuffing her in metal restraints marked in Enochian binding runes. "Let me go! Let me go, I have to stop them, _please_, you don't understand!"

"Hello, Ariel." The angels release her and she collapses to the floor beneath the weight of the chains binding her. She lifts her head weakly to see polished black shoes, and glances up further to see Raphael coldly glowering down at her.

"Where's Michael?" she demands desperately.

"Not here. He's returned to the battlefield."

"Let me go, Raphael, I have to stop them!" She struggles, but the chains are too strong and she collapses again.

"You can't stop the Apocalypse."

"I can stop our brothers from tearing each other to pieces!" she snaps back. "Let me go, Raph!"

"Don't call me that." His expression closes off even more, and she's sure he's not going to be of any help to her. "I have other plans for you, anyway."

Ariel's hazel eyes flicker up to his dark, emotionless ones, and she can't stop a shiver from running down her spine as she shuts her eyes.

* * *

When she opens her eyes again, she's on her feet, no chains holding her down and dead grass beneath her feet. She's back in Stull Cemetery. She'd just been with Raphael a second ago, though. What had brought her back to the cemetery?

She glances around rapidly for any clues to the confusion swirling in her mind, but Lucifer is nowhere to be found, nor is Michael. Bobby is on the ground, his neck contorted, and Ariel's stomach drops out from beneath her. "Dean," she croaks, stumbling forward and looking desperately for Dean. She rounds the Impala and sees him slumped to the ground there, his face bloody and swollen as he stares blankly at the space in front of him. He lifts his gaze to Ariel when he hears her footsteps, his one good eye shining with tears.

"He's gone," he whispers bleakly, his words garbled. Ariel doesn't hesitate to place her hand gently against his cheek, healing him with one quick burst of energy. "Sammy's gone," Dean repeats again, his voice clearer now even as it quivers. Both of his eyes are open and tear-filled. "Took control of Lucifer and threw himself and Michael into the Cage."

"Oh, Dean." She drops to her knees beside him and pulls him into a hug, and he practically collapses against her, his face pressed against her shoulder as he shakes with silent sobs. She doesn't protest to the feeling of dampness growing on her shoulder, choosing instead to hush him quietly and rub his back even as she holds back her own tears. Her brothers are gone, lost to the Cage, and her best friend with them. Bobby and Castiel are dead, and Dean is a broken mess.

A hand, firm and warm, rests on her back, and she pulls away from Dean to look up, her eyes widening as she breathes in relief, "Cas."

Castiel doesn't smile, but there's a softness to his expression as he murmurs, "Hello, Ariel." She stumbles to her feet and clutches him as hard as she can.

"You're okay," she mumbles against his chest, her voice trembling, "You're _okay_."

"Yes, I'm fine." He holds her in return, stroking her back gently, as Dean gets to his feet as well, his expression a mix of grief and exhaustion.

"Cas, you're alive?"

"I'm better than that." Ariel can hear a smile in Castiel's voice now as he pulls away from their embrace. She can't help but be confused.

"Are you God?" Dean asks blankly.

Ariel can't help a mild snort of amusement. "Dean, I think I'd have called that plot twist a mile away. No, he's not."

"It's a nice compliment," Castiel admits, "But no. Although, I do believe He brought me back. New and improved."

"Guess you must be one of Dad's favorites," Ariel says with a soft smile back up at him. Despite everyone they've lost, all the pain, Castiel is here again, and that makes her grief a little more bearable.

Castiel walks to Bobby and kneels down, touching his forehead. Within seconds, Bobby's neck snaps into place and he sits up, rubbing at it with a bemused expression. Ariel doesn't hesitate to cross the distance between herself and the older hunter and hug him tightly.

"Didn't you disappear?" Bobby asks, bewildered, and Ariel nods as she pulled back.

"Lucifer banished me back to Heaven." She glances between the three of them, but Dean's too far gone to even register her words, and Castiel only raises his eyebrows. "Raphael found me, bound me with some Enochian chains and...then I just ended up back here."

"How?" Castiel demands, frowning now.

"I don't know." She glances back up at him. "I just blinked and ended up here. I didn't do it, someone else must've sent me back. God, maybe?"

"Maybe." Castiel's lips are pursed in thought now. "I'm sure it's total anarchy in Heaven now, though. One of us needs to lead the ones who are willing to listen to us."

"'One of us' being me," she supplies for him and gets to her feet. "Yeah, I'll go now." She glances between Dean and Bobby. "You guys head home. I'll try to check in on you both soon. Cas, you go with Dean." Castiel nods; at least he can keep Dean's head clear long enough for Dean to get to Bobby's house in the Impala.

With everything sorted on Earth, Ariel disappears to Heaven.

* * *

She finds their home, as Castiel had said, in chaos, angels flocking either to Raphael or lingering around in confusion. When she arrives, though, several of her siblings come to her immediately, not attacking her like before, but clamoring for answers. Without leaders, they had come to the closest source of authority: her. She had no doubt that the other half of Heaven had gone to Raphael similarly.

"Hey! Quiet!" They all fall silent instantly and Ariel blinks. It's a little weird having power after all the time she'd spent away from home. The perks of being an archangel, she supposes. "Look, I get that you're all confused. Believe me, I'm a little lost myself. But I promise you, we're going to try to fix our home. You all know the system's been broken for a very long time. You were raised as soldiers, but that wasn't what we were meant to be. You've been fighting what we were meant to protect: humankind. Our Father created humanity beneath our protection, and we let that go to ruin over our own pride and ignorance."

"What do we do?" one angel - a read of his Grace informs her that his name is Ion - asks tentatively. "The Apocalypse never happened. We don't know what to do next."

"We rebuild Heaven to what it was before Lucifer fell. I know most of you don't remember what it was like, but that's why I'm here. This is a new beginning, everyone. Let's make the most of it and do our best to make Dad proud." Raphael would pose a problem, true, but she thinks she can reason with him.

"Are you saying all of this because you were human?" a brave angel named Hester pipes up.

Ariel rolls her eyes. "I fell, yes. Michael cast me down because I wanted to see Lucifer. Think of one sibling you love most, more than any other angel. It could be your garrison leader, your closest comrade, your best friend, your twin." Her voice cracks a little at the mention of twins. "If they were lost to you, wouldn't you want to know if they're okay?" A few of the angels murmur in agreement. "That's why I went to see Lucifer, not because I was being rebellious or because I wanted to join him or anything. I loved my big brother. I still do, even though he and Michael are in the Cage right now duking it out. But I _am_ an archangel again, even if I think like a human sometimes. You know, that's not such a bad thing. We could learn from humanity a little. If any of you has a problem with that or anything else I've said or will say, feel free to leave anytime."

None of the angels disappear, but there's a lot of rustling as one angel steps out of the crowd, his pale blue eyes shining brightly.

"Hello, Samandriel." Ariel cracks a smile at last at the sight of one of her fledglings.

Samandriel flushes pink at the acknowledgment - he had always been very shy - before drawing his angel blade and lifting it in the air. "I pledge to follow you, sister." Another familiar face, Inias, follows his lead, lifting his own blade. Soon, the air is glinting with several polished angel blades as every angel in the crowd wordlessly pledges their loyalty.

Ariel can't stop a wide smile from spreading across her face as she looks at the solemn faces of her siblings. "I accept your loyalty. Thank you. Now you know our brother Castiel and how he's alive again, I assume."

A few angels roll their eyes goodnaturedly and Ariel bites back a snort of amusement as she hears one mutter, "What is this, like the fifth time?" She's half-tempted to find out which angel had said that to give him a high-five or something. He deserved a few points for a sense of humor most of the others seemed to lack.

"I'm appointing Castiel as my second-in-command," she says instead. No angel protests, so she goes in for the big finish. "Whatever happens, we're all in this together. Things will get better, guys. I promise." She blinks at the crowd when they stare at her blankly, waiting for some command. "Um...dismissed?"

As one, the crowd disappears and her shoulders slump as she sighs in relief. Public speaking, especially with angels, is much harder than she remembers it being. Castiel appears at her side, then, and she gives him a small smile.

"You missed the big speech, Cas."

"Did I?" He frowns. "Who showed up?"

"A good part of the Host. Samandriel, Inias, Ion, Hester, Rachel...the old crowd." By which she means all the angels who had often been around her and Castiel all those centuries ago. "Plus a few extras, but they seem devoted to our cause."

Castiel nods in approval. "Good. They will be useful to us, seeing as Raphael's furious."

"I'll bet." Ariel grimaces; she doesn't want to think about Raphael at the moment. She changes the topic. "How are Dean and Bobby?"

"Bobby is well and safe in his home," Castiel reports, "Dean is on his way to Lisa Braeden's. He's...grieving."

"He's right to." Ariel had almost forgotten about the comfortable weight in her pocket, having carried it for so long, but now she feels it as if it was a rock weighing her down.

"What should we do about Sam?"

She's surprised Castiel brings it up first, but answers, anyway. "We can't risk pulling Sam out and freeing Lucifer or Michael, too. Give me some time, I'll do some research and see how to pull him out." Castiel looks uneasy, but nods. "Call our group together, give them their positions."

"Shouldn't you do that?" he asks with a frown.

"I would, but I've named you my second-in-command." Castiel's eyes widen before his expression softens in gratitude.

"Thank you, sister."

"You're welcome, bro." She grins and reaches up to ruffle his hair. "I'm gonna go check on Dean. You'll be okay up here?"

"Of course." He dips his head in acknowledgment and she smiles before finding Dean with her Grace and disappearing.

* * *

Dean's just gotten out of the Impala, his head bowed and his expression lined with grief, when Ariel appears on top of the hood.

"Hi, Dean." He starts in surprise, but then rolls his eyes.

"Off the car, kid."

"I'm hardly a kid, I'm, like, older than dirt," she points out as she slips off the hood. He cracks a smile, but she knows his heart isn't in it. "How're you doing?"

"I'm..." He sighs wearily. "I'm as good as I can be."

"You don't have to do this if you don't want to." She nods to the house behind Dean.

"I promised Sam I'd try to live a normal life." Despite the weariness in his expression, his stance is firm. "How did things in Heaven go?"

"Well, it's a mess, like Cas said." Ariel wrinkles her nose. "I think things are gonna be okay, though. Given a little time. Both in Heaven and down here." She reaches up, placing a hand on Dean's shoulder. "Don't beat yourself up trying to save Sam. You know I'm not gonna give up on him."

Dean's expression crumples just at the mention of his brother's name - Ariel can understand, she feels like she's being destroyed whenever she hears Gabriel's name, too - but he nods. "I know. Thanks."

"Hey, um...if it makes things easier, I've got something for you. It's about time I gave it back to you, anyway." Ariel fishes into her pocket, pulling out the item that's been heavy in her pocket during their conversation, and presses it into Dean's palm, closing his fingers around it. "If you need me, I'm just a prayer away. Take care, Dean." She leans up to kiss his cheek before disappearing again.

When Dean opens his palm, a familiar little golden amulet strung through a black cord lies in the center. He clutches it tightly as his knees buckle until he's leaning on the hood for support, gasping in an attempt to keep himself from breaking down. Finally, when he controls his breathing, he silently slips the necklace on, appreciating how the cold metal rests against his heart, before wiping at his face - not that it does much good - and crossing the distance between the Impala and Lisa Braeden's door.

* * *

Ariel arrives in a small corner of Heaven, one that a particular soul inhabits, and sits patiently on the park bench to wait. It's not long before the soul she's waiting for arrives, a surprised smile spreading across his handsome face.

"Ariel!" She smiles faintly and gets to her feet again, crossing the distance between them and cupping his face in her hands gently.

"Hello, Adam. I've missed you."

* * *

**And that's it! That's the conclusion of Catch Me Now! It took _way_ too long to get this chapter done, but I did it! I'm going to put up the first chapter to the sequel simultaneously, so no need to worry about a wait or checking my profile constantly for it to come up.**

**I feel like I could've done a lot more with this finale, but really, my brain just fizzled to a halt as soon as I made the "jam" pun and I had to trudge my way through the actual meat of this chapter. At least I got the Samulet back! Remember when Ariel picked it up after Dean dropped it in the trash? Yeah, you thought I forgot, didn't you? Ehehehe.**

**Thanks for sticking with me through all the ups and downs, and reviewing consistently, and I hope to see you all again in the sequel!**


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